[Anvil Christopher] Anvil, Christopher - Interstel(BookFi)

8/17/2019 [Anvil Christopher] Anvil, Christopher - Interstel(BookFi)

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WARLORD’S WORLD

Christopher Anvil

Villains With Slick Tricks

Met Their Match in the Slicker

and Trickier Interstellar Patrol …

Vaughan Roberts and his two companions had been trapped on a crime-ridden,chaotic planet until they bamboozled the population with a gigantic hoax—whichbrought them to the attention of the Interstellar Patrol, who were looking for a few

good con men, capable of ingenious improvisation and adept at playing dirty trickson the bad guys. The new recruits acquitted themselves admirably, so they naturallywere given more tough nuts to crack, including:

• Flummoxing an alien

empire which has taken

a number of human

prisoners to gather

information prior to an

invasion. This has a

personal aspect, sincethe prisoners are from

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the planet which

Roberts tricked into

reforming…

• Stopping a plan by

not-so-good Samaritanswho are pretending to

cure a planetary

plague—which they

introduced to the

planet—with a

“miracle” drug which

creates an addiction to

the same drug, which

the schemers will beglad to continue

supplying for

ever-increasing sums…

• Not only rescuing some

Patrol personnel taken

hostage by fanatics who

plan to execute them

one at a time until their

leader is released, but

also convincing other

fanatics throughout the

galaxy that the

consequences of

threatening anyone in

the Patrol are too

terrible even to think

about…

• Making sure that the

rightful heir to a

planet’s throne escapes

from captivity and

overthrows the usurper.

This time there’s a

complication: Roberts

may be falling for the

heir’s beautiful sister…

And much more, including such lethal alien wildlife as banjo birds with rapier-like



beaks, alien caterpillars with flaming dragonlike exhalations, and a cast of thousandsof biting, stinging, bloodsucking insects from a host of colony worlds who think humans are the tastiest things they’ve ever come across…

Warlord’s World was first published in 1975 by DAW Books.

Table of Contents

I. The AppealII. IPS 6-107-J

III. “Personal Considerations Are Not Important”IV. The Inside JobV. RebornVI. “Indisposed?”VII. Cleaning HouseVIII. Just a Friendly VisitIX. Dear BrotherX. A Hitch Has Developed In Our PlansXI. How To Kill Kings With Pictures

XII. The Guard Does Not SurrenderXIII. The Regent’s Unlucky DayXIV. A Job Well DoneXV. The Baths of the DamnedXVI. Everyone Has His ReasonsXVII. The TrialXVIII. The Lowest Nobleman of the RealmXIX. The Warlord’s ChallengeXX. The Regent’s ReplyXXI. Restlessness In FestholdXXII. The Outside JobXXIII. The SailorsXXIV. The RivalsXXV. The Sovereigns’ LeagueXXVI. The Warlord’s ArmyXXVII. A Rough Day at the Com CenterXXVIII. The GuestsXXIX. Steel and Gold





























































I. The Appeal

^ » Vaughan Nathan Roberts was on the fast curving upslide coming out of the Temple

of Chance on Tiamaz when he saw the girl.

Roberts, just before that moment, was free of care, his mind cheerfully alternatingbetween curiosity as to the slide’s construction—it must be a sequence of gravitors,their fields so angled as to create a strong upward component against the slick,many-colored glowing surface of the slide—and the thought of the steaks awaitinghim and his crew at the establishment known as “Chez Dragon.”

Hammell and Morrissey, the two older members of his crew, were well ahead of him on the slide. Dan Bergen, considerably younger, was right beside Roberts, his

expression showing his shifting feelings as they shot up toward the flight level.“Weird effect,” said Bergen.

Roberts himself felt as if he were shooting down the slide, until he glancedaround at the elaborately curved ruby and emerald pillars that rose from the gamefloor below to the surface above. “Why?”

“Why,” said Bergen. “It feels like we’re going down. But I can see we’re goingup.” Ahead, a second slide curved amongst the glinting pillars, to take patrons andsightseers down to the game floor. Just ahead, the two slides passed close together.

“Be glad,” said Roberts, “that we’re going up. On that one ahead, that goesdown, the slide speeds up, and—” Roberts paused, the rest of the sentenceforgotten. On the down slide ahead, curving toward him, coming so close that thetwo slides passed within six to eight feet of one another, Roberts was suddenlyaware of one single individual amongst the crowd. It was a girl.

What took place next happened so fast that no thought seemed to be involved.At one instant Roberts saw the face, the honey-blonde hair, the dark-blue eyeslooking straight into his—he felt the impact of a desperate silent appeal flashed

between their locked glances as they stared at each other, were swept toward eachother, then curved sharply away.

In that instant, Roberts was aware of the girl as if they were one person—as if hewere in two places at once. Then she was past. The last thing that he saw was thelook of desperate appeal on her face.

Roberts was near the flickering edge of the slide, by the waist-high silver rail. Theup-slide he was riding was higher here by several feet than the down-slide the girlwas on.

As the two slides began to diverge, Roberts gripped the silver rail, vaulted onto it,crouched and sprang, the whole action so fast as to seem all one motion, and sospontaneous that he did not realize what he was doing until the three-hundred foot







drop to the floor was beneath him.

He sucked in his breath in silent prayer, the golden rail of the down-slide loomedin front of him, he dropped from the rail to a momentary clear space in the crowd,heard the indrawn gasp behind him, glanced up and saw the staring faces on the

up-slide as he shot back through the closest approach of the two slides.In that instant, he saw something else. On the up-slide, a figure in the multicolored

silk clown-suit and silver and gold domino mask of a bar boy from the game floorwas aiming toward Roberts a shiny chrome object with a round black hole in thecenter.

As Roberts dropped, the figure in the domino mask was twisting, and reachedout to grip the silver rail as if to try for a better shot. Then the figure was past.Somewhere behind Roberts, there was a yell that faded almost as it began.

Ahead, the slide seemed to slope ever steeper, to almost dip into a vertical drop.The wind blew in Roberts’ face. Around him, there was a gasp from the crowd. Thegold rail beside him flickered and blurred. Ahead, the game floor enlarged visibly asthey rushed toward it.

Roberts stood up. In front of him, the slide leveled out, seemed to press upunder his feet, gave the illusion for an instant of climbing steeply—and then he glidedout onto the floor, looking quickly around.

The white beam of an idly revolving spotlight paused for an instant, to shine on

honey-blonde hair. Roberts thrust through the crowd, leaving behind him a trail of low curses, and his own murmured excuses and apologies.

Ahead of him, two broad-shouldered men in dark evening clothes, theirmovements brisk and athletic, stepped one to either side of the girl, who drew back,then paused defiantly.

They stepped close, to grip her by the arms, from either side. The taller of thetwo, to the right, slipped his hand in his pocket. As his hand came out of the pocket,there was the brief flash of a hypodermic.

Roberts had had no time to stop and think since that first glance going up theslide, and he spent no time in thought now. His left hand gripped the taller of the twomen at the base of the neck. His right hand clamped the wrist above the other’s handthat held the hypodermic. His left hand found the nerve he sought, and his opponentsucked in his breath. The hypodermic dropped to the floor and smashed.

“Let go of her,” said Roberts, his voice low and reasonable, “or you will both bedead before seconds pass.”

“Who in—”

Roberts’ brain now had time to function, and in a brief instant deliver severalunpleasant conclusions to him. For a start, it occurred to him suddenly that he was,



in fact, all alone here. Hammell and Morrissey were, at this very moment, doubtlesssettling pleasantly into their seats, admiring the huge dragon of transparent red andgold glass that formed the central attraction around which the tables of “ChezDragon” were grouped, and from which the pretty girls, their hair tied back, cheeksflushed from the heat, carried the steaks from the grills. Bergen, for his part, had had

no warning, and would have been carried quickly out of reach by the slide.

That meant that Roberts had odds of two-to-one to deal with for a start, with theclown-suited bar boy doubtless approaching the top of the up-slide by now, andheading for the down-slide, which would very shortly land him at Roberts’ back.

Then Roberts remembered the way the spotlight had lingered on thehoney-blonde hair, and realized that very possibly he had worse to contend with thanthat. The management of the casino itself could be involved.

Roberts at once felt the need to fill in his lack of allies, and generate someconfusion at the same time. This was made easier for him by the less tall of the twomen, whose gaze flicked casually over Roberts. This glance had the bored quality of a technician in an automated packing plant looking over the incoming beef. As thefirst of the two sank to the polished floor, this second one spoke up.

“Don’t move, poko. You’re covered from all sides.” Roberts could, in fact,sense the likely truth of the comment in his twinging flesh. He could feel the sights of guns centered on his back, neck, and both sides.

“Unfortunate,” Roberts said, “but we have our orders.”

There was a faint flicker of interest in the bored gaze resting on him. “Ordersfrom who?”

Roberts’ racing mind sought the vague, the unverifiable and yet alarming, at thesame time that his hands sought nerve centers. He considered swiftly the patronagethe casinos of Tiamaz received from various aristocrats, titans of trade, andplanetary leaders, large and small. Which ones would they least care to antagonize?

“From the King,” said Roberts, his thumb finding the spot he wanted. The girlwas suddenly free, staring at him.

The second of the pair who had held the girl had let go and stepped back, staringat Roberts. The two men, Roberts and the girl, were now in the center of a clearedspace roughly fifteen feet across. The customers of the casino, taking in thesituation, were giving it a wide berth. Bar boys in clown suits and neatly dressedguards in evening clothes were congregated around the little scene, evidently awaitinginstructions. Roberts became aware of a peculiar sensation, as if his words had rungin the air, and now echoed back.

“The King,” murmured the less tall of the pair who had held the girl. He looked at

Roberts uncertainly. Roberts seized the opportunity.

“Did you actually think,” he said, “that you could get away with this?”



“I—”

Roberts no longer felt that sensation of guns aimed at him. The little circlesurrounding him suddenly had a nervous look. Roberts gave the girl his left arm, andas she clung tightly to him he turned toward the surliest face in the circle before him,

and walked directly forward. Behind Roberts, someone sucked in his breath.“Not likely. Stop the—”

Dan Bergen’s voice was low, but it carried. “Better not. The King wouldn’t like

it .”

There was a heavy thump, and the surly face before Roberts changed expressionand suddenly there was room for him to pass. In front of Roberts, Hammell’spowerful figure emerged from the crowd just leaving the down-slide. BehindHammell came Morrissey, taller and more slender, but obviously fit. They glanced

questioningly at Roberts.

Roberts, conscious of the recording instruments that might now be focused onhim, murmured, “ Bergen?”

Hammell’s lips scarcely moved. “Coming now.”

Roberts nodded, groped for a way to sow confusion, and kept his voice low.“None of the rest had to break cover. We’ll leave them.”

“Good,” said Hammell, exactly as if he knew what Roberts was talking about.

Morrissey nodded, and managed a thin smile.

“Where to?” murmured Hammell.

“Refreshments,” said Roberts, acutely aware of the need to leave the planet aswell as the casino, but also aware of the embarrassing non-availability of his ship.The patrol ship was at the spaceport, and was in the guise of a space yacht, sincethe arrival of Interstellar Patrol ships had a tendency to create more stir than thearrival of a Space Force dreadnought. Small as Roberts’ ship was, its lines would berecognized on sight. And as in the case of a dainty perfume bottle filled withnitroglycerin, it wasn’t the outward appearance of the thing that brought on thenervous perspiration, but the realization of what the thing could do.

Roberts could hardly wait to get back to his ship. But Tiamaz Quarantine, inaddition to the standard tests for disease, periodically claimed to also run an“incubation test” which took a total of seventy-two hours. No one could leave theplanet until the results of this test were in. Roberts had been on the planet a little overtwo and a half days. Until another twelve hours went by, the quarantine sticker wouldnot be removed from Roberts’ “space yacht”. The guards would not admit Robertsto the spaceport where the space yacht was kept, and the okay would not even go

out to allow Roberts to enter the shuttle to travel to the spaceport.Very conscious of the girl clinging tightly to his arm, and of the tendency of even



the best bluff to evaporate with time, Roberts stepped off the top of the upslide. Hestepped past the first of the fantastic gravcabs waiting nearby, and selected apumpkin-shaped coach with the name “Cinderella” in an arc of imitation diamondsover the door.

Roberts opened the door, and helped the girl climb in. Once the five of themwere all settled inside, the “coachman” turned on his seat to look in through a littlegrilled opening. Roberts pulled open the small glass window hinged beside theopening, and called loudly, “Palace of Fortune!”

The coachman nodded. “Palace it is!”

The coach began a rocking motion, to simulate the movement of a horse-drawncarriage. Outside the window flashed the golden spires, granite towers, silverminarets, and floating many-hued banners of Tiamaz. The glint of inlaid jewels, glitterof silver and gold, the green of the trees below, the deep violet of the tiled conicalroofs—all were a treat for the eye of the spaceman—an explosion of color and formagainst a turquoise sky where a golden sun blazed down through pure white clouds.

The coachman called in, “Palace!”

Roberts glanced out the little grilled window. “Go to the front entrance, as if tolet us out. Stop near that crowd. Then go around in back.”

The coach rocked forward, stopped, then the coachman said, as if surprised,“Oops, sorry, sir. I thought you said the front, not the side.” The rocking began

again.Beside Roberts, the girl still clung to his arm. Her head was bent against his

shoulder, and she was trembling. Roberts was aware of a fierce possessivetenderness as he looked down at the honey-gold hair. Across from him Hammell andMorrissey, watching, glanced soberly at each other.

Roberts looked out the window, then spoke through the little grille.

“Don’t stop. Keep going to ‘Chez Dragon’.”

“Yes, sir.”

Roberts shut the little window and glanced around uneasily. The need to plan wasurgent. But the elaborately cushioned and decorated coach might have concealed athousand pick-ups. In fact, on Tiamaz, where was the place that didn’t?

The girl looked up at him. Her deep blue eyes were like the sky at dusk.Suddenly, she followed his glance of a moment before. Her lips parted in a suddenflashing smile. Her voice was soft, and faintly husky.

“My brother the King,” she said, her tone quiet and conversational, “is more a

warrior in his boyhood than these gamblers in their prime. They have lowered him bytheir clever debauchery, but—” a faint cold note entered into her voice—“we willshow them that the steel of Festhold will cut much deeper than the gold of Tiamaz.”



She tightly held Roberts’ arm and said, “I know of your organization—and thatthe King is in touch with you—but if we are to save the throne and Festhold itself,we must free him from the grip of Tiamaz’ advisors at home. His inherited power of decision in a crisis is still strong, but no constitution can endure forever thedebasement in which they have entrapped him.”

Roberts, filled with delight by the clear sweetness of her voice, realized with asudden shock that she had just filled in the whole background of thesituation—without revealing for an instant that there had been anything false aboutRoberts’ bluff. If anyone were listening, the bluff had suddenly taken on solidity.Roberts, for his part, could now understand the look of nervous sweat on the facesof the guards in the casino.

To seize a blonde-haired girl was one thing. To seize a princess of the Kingdomof Festhold—provided the King was in the power of those who seized the

princess—was still not too bad. A gambler might well risk it for high stakes.

But Festhold was one of the largest of the independent human allies of theFederation, and one of the very few that adhered to the ancient code of the warrior.Each male citizen bore arms from childhood, and took his personal sidearms into theflame which consumed his bodily remains at death. The population was made up of warriors, while the kings of Festhold were renowned strategists.

To seize a princess of Festhold, and to have fighting men at once appear on theKing’s order—there was a situation to chill the blood of the fondest gambler.

She said quietly, looking at Roberts with her deep blue eyes, “Call me Erena.”She spoke the name as if it were spelled “Erayna,” and added, “Knowing yourpurpose to free the King, I wish to join your organization. I swear that I have alwaysbeen true to the Code.”

Roberts felt a second shock. Which organization did she “wish to join”?—Themythical organization from Festhold which was pure bluff?—Or the InterstellarPatrol to which Roberts, Hammell, Morrissey, and Bergen belonged? Roberts, beingthe captain of a patrol ship, had the power to admit whoever he wished to thePatrol—though whoever was admitted must afterward pass through a training course

and a series of tests that Roberts did not care to think of, even in retrospect. ButRoberts’ hesitation lasted less than a fraction of a second.

“I admit you, Erena,” he said, “and although I do not need anyone else’sagreement, I know that we are all agreed.” He glanced at Hammell and Morrissey,then at Bergen, and the smiles that answered his glance also answered his question.

The coachman bent to the little grille. “ ‘Chez Dragon,’ gentlemen.”

Roberts stepped down, and helped Erena to descend. As the cab rocked away,they turned to climb the ramp of New Venusian teak with its rail of jade, toward thehuge ivory tusks in the open jaws of the dragon’s head. Beyond these jaws theycould see the double doors of walnut with their broad hammered iron hinges. But



they had not reached the nostrils from which flames billowed out above the walk when the whole scene became suddenly hazy. The girl gripped Roberts’ arm moretightly.

Hammell growled, “Gas.”

Roberts suddenly changed his estimate of the opposition, and with this changedestimate he suddenly cared nothing for the concealment he had tried to maintain.Bergen managed a yell of warning.

Out of the corner of his eye, Roberts could see Morrissey grappling withsomeone in white. Simultaneously, Roberts could feel himself falling, seeking toprotect with his body the unconscious girl who had slumped to the dark woodenfloor of the ramp.

Roberts’ last conscious thought was an intensely focused command:

“Override! Come!”

II. IPS 6-107-J

« ^ »

The wind on the spaceport chilled the two men in coveralls who eyed the spaceyacht. Like a big gently curved ice-cream cone set upside-down, the space yachtwas all curving smoothness, a harmless piece of ostentation and luxury whichnevertheless had resisted the master signal box, and was now resisting a six-foot toolsteel bar with its end in the lip of the hatch.

“Damned thick metal for a yacht,” growled one of the workmen.

“Must be some off-standard job. Has kind of stubby lines when you look itover.”

“Put your weight onto that bar. The sooner we get this finished, the sooner weget out of this wind.”

“What do you think I’m doing?”

As they strained at the bar, several hundred miles away, Roberts was falling. Thelast thought that passed through Roberts’ mind: “Override! Come!” triggered a tinytransceiver in his body. An all but imperceptible impulse flashed skyward, wasdetected by a tiny satellite, retransmitted—

The two workmen paused, exasperated. “Who owns this rig, anyway?”

“Just somebody the big boys want ended. We plant the stuff, and it finishes themafter they’re off-planet. No trouble. No sweat.”









“Well, let’s try a—”

The faint impulse flashed along its tight beam to the ship. Beneath the disguise of the elongated cone-shaped hull, the Interstellar Patrol ship very quietly clicked andmurmured. As the signal reached it, the ship was checking its missiles, idling its

turrets around to timed signals, and running test problems through the battlecomputer. A small part of its attention was devoted to the pair straining at theimitation spacelock. A combination of minute traces of gaseous drugs andpseudotelepathic signals was prying information from the pair, while the molecularemplacement of a directed flow of alloy steel further frustrated the struggle at thehatch.

The arrival of the override signal put a sudden end to this cozy house-keepingroutine. The ship, unprepared for this signal, wasted a measurable fraction of asecond in confusion, its attention and resources scattered—and then made up for it

in a hurry.

BAM !

The external camouflage cover exploded in blazing fragments. For a brief instant,the patrol ship, with its two big fusion turrets, its number one snap-beam probe headlooming above them, and its movable belt of smaller turrets circling its midsection,stood there unnaturally balanced on its tail amidst the burning fragments.

The two workmen, knocked flat on their mobile ramp by the explosion, stared ina daze at this transformation, and one of them suddenly recognized the letters on the

side:

IPS6107J

The workman’s scream was lost in the sudden whine of the patrol ship’sgravitors. The ship sprang skyward. An instant later, the reaction drive nozzles lit.The ship hurtled toward the capital city of Tiamaz.

On the ramp outside “Chez Dragon,” the white-jacketed men pulled Roberts,Hammell, and the others to their feet. Behind them, a blue-uniformed figure displayeda badge to a crowd of patrons alighting from an imitation street car.

“Police business,” said the figure in blue. “Just stay back here. Wait until theattendants have these escapees under restraint.—They’re congenital defectives fromHappy Hills Training Institute.—Ah, here we go. Just keep back, now. The chemicalrestraint doesn’t hurt them. It just makes them harmless to normal people.”

Roberts could see the ramp, the staring crowd, and the blue-uniformed figure. Itall meant nothing to him. A voice spoke in his ear.



“Walk down the ramp.” Roberts walked down the ramp.

“Now turn right.” Roberts turned right.

Behind him, he could hear similar orders given to Hammell and Morrissey. Itdidn’t mean a thing to Roberts.

Over the horizon to the northwest, a glittering streak hurtled through the middaysky toward the city. A police cruiser on routine patrol spotted it, spun, and flashedthe news:

“Unidentified small spaceship leaving vicinity Parking Spaceport Eight on courseTiamaz Center extreme boost we are following request area alert…”

From the police cruiser came the warning: “You are sighted! Decelerate at once

to zero! Stand by and open your hatches for boarding!”

From the patrol ship came the answer: “Interstellar Patrol Ship 6-107-J, onOfficial Patrol Business under Mandate Override Command Authority Paragraph1064b, Subheading 44p through z, relevant Emergencies to Patrol Personnel OnActive Duty, Enabling Authority Subsection J through Q … THIS IS A RELEVANT

EMERGENCY ! … Stand by to render assistance on request.”

On the police cruiser, grim purpose dissolved into chaos.

“Holy—It’s an I.P. ship!”

“Wait now! How do we know it’s an I.P.? Just because they say—”

“—What’s ‘Mandate Override Command’? I never heard of ‘Mandate OverrideCommand.’ Did anybody here ever hear of ‘Mandate Override Command’?”

“They’re outdistancing us!”

“Standard regs say we’ve got to stop any ship showing in the inner ring. Itdoesn’t matter if it’s the Space Force!”

“Look, what’s a ‘relevant emergency’? Did anybody here ever hear of a ‘relevantemergency’?”

“I’m telling you, you don’t mess with the I.P.!”

“But how do we know for sure it is the I.P.?”

“Pass the message to HQ and let them figure it out!”

At Tiamaz Central Police HQ, calm efficiency dissolved into confusion: “Cruiser

89 has a spook in the Inner Ring.”

“Stop and search, or blow it out of the sky.”



“Cruiser 89 reports stop and search order out.”

“Pull the spook in to Central Detention. We’ll want to go over this very carefully.Could be a—”

“ Hold everything! This spook is an I.P. ship!”

“Cancel the Stop and Search!”

“Hold it! Hold it! How do we know it’s I.P.? Anybody could say that! Stop it just the same!”

“If it is I.P., how do we stop it?”

“This is a General Order: Capital Squadron to maximum alert!”

“Sir—this I.P. ship reports it’s on Official Business acting under Mandate

Override Command Authority. It’s an Emergency. They request us to stand by torender assistance!”

“Well—that ’s different.”

“Wait a minute, Ed. How different? How do we know— ”

“What is Mandate Override Command Authority?”

“Get out the space regs.”

“Damn it! Who’s got the authority under Mandate Override?”

“Let’s see that message … H’m … This sounds right; they got the subheadingsand all…”

“I can’t find the space regs!”

“Well—either it’s the I.P. or it isn’t. If it is, we aren’t going to stop them. Theywon’t stop, period … But, if it isn’t— ”

“Send this reply: ‘Tiamaz Central Police HQ to IPS 6-107-J. We are alerting theCapital Squadron, and standing by to render emergency assistance on request. We

request further information regarding nature of this emergency. You are in a ClosedZone, due to sensitive native installations throughout the Capital Area. We areauthorized to seize or destroy all ships of whatever nature in this area on sight.’ Sendthat. That covers everything.”

“We still don’t know who’s got the authority under Mandate Override!”

“Where’s the damned space regs?”

Roberts entered the roofed-over walk that led to the slide entrance and exit in theTemple of Chance. A faintly amused voice said, “Head for the downslide.”



Obediently, Roberts joined the crowd pressing forward at the outcurved head of the slide. The voice beside him murmured, “Halfway down, where the two slidewayscome closest together, there’s a sheet of nonreflective glass that slopes off to theright. Understand?”

Roberts’ mind seemed to split in half. “Nonreflective glass?”“Right. It’s sloped to the right. It’s thick armorsheet nonreflective glass, curved

in a big trough, and it leads off to the right, sloping downward. It’s put there toprotect anyone who would try to jump from one slideway to the other.”

“Oh,” said Roberts. He could understand that. The two separated halves of hismind seemed to come together again.

The voice went on: “This armorsheet nonreflective glass slopes off to the right,and takes you to the casino office. When we get to the halfway point, where the two

slideways come close, jump down onto the nonreflective glass. You can’t see it.Bend your knees a little to take the shock when you hit. You’ll drop five to six feet,land on the glass, and slide to the right. Stay seated on the glass slide. Understand?”

Roberts’ mind again seemed divided, and one part was trying to tell hisconsciousness something, but it could not get through to the other part.

“Okay,” said the voice, faintly amused. “Here we go now, onto the slide. Whenwe reach the halfway point, vault over the rail and bend your knees. Understand?”

“Yes.”

They stepped onto the smoothly downcurving slide, and Roberts glanced overthe golden rail. Three hundred feet below, the figures were tiny on the game floor.Somewhere behind him, there was a crash as of heavy thunder.

The Interstellar Patrol ship had crossed the horizon like a meteor, ignoring thepolice cruisers forming into a circling pattern overhead. The sensitive receptors of the patrol ship were now picking up a faint signal which radiated from a crowdpassing under a canted roof gleaming silver under gigantic golden letters reading,“The Temple of Chance.”

The patrol ship dove toward the canted roof. Small doors slid back to uncovergrilles inset in the ship’s flanks. A siren wail split the air, its volume suggestive of arocket engine being tested to destruction. Below, the crowd stared around, lookedup, saw a dazzling red and yellow flash descending, and bolted to get out of theway.

The patrol ship braked with a whine from its gravitors, passed under the cantedroof, retracted its probe heads into their wells, and followed the faint signal to the

outward slanting entrance of a slide. Here the downward slanting roof overhead, andthe protective wall at the edge of the walk, made the distance too small for the patrol



ship to pass.

On the downslide, Roberts saw the slightly higher slide that rose from the gamefloor approaching. Beside him, the gold rail of the downslide flickered. As the two

slides approached, Roberts braced himself.

From somewhere behind him came the wail of a siren, rising louder and louder.The two slides came close.

Beside Roberts, the voice said, “Jump!”

Inside of Roberts’ mind, something clamored to speak to him. His mind seemedsplit in parts, one part unable to communicate with another.

“Jump!” said the voice in his ear.

Roberts gripped the golden rail, and vaulted over it. From behind him came anamused chuckle. Roberts bent his knees to take the shock.

Below him, the little figures were moving on the game floor. He dropped fourfeet. He braced for the impact. He dropped eight feet.

The tiny figures far below turned small faces upward, apparently attracted by thewail of the siren. Roberts dropped sixteen feet. He was tilting off-balance now.Where was the glass slide?

Below, small dark ovals appeared in the upturned faces—the mouths of thewatchers seeing a little figure dropping toward them. Roberts fell thirty-two feet.

Roberts’ heart pounded. His lungs sucked in air. The sudden increase in bloodpressure and oxygen level seemed to burst the barriers that had split his mind.Abruptly he realized that there was no glass slide, that he had been tricked by casualdrugged suggestion into committing suicide.

To either side of him, he could see the curving undersides of the slides, silver forthe upslide, gold for the downslide. From the floor below, pillars of synthetic

amethyst, ruby, and emerald, climbed toward the ceiling far above, and the silver andgold slides threaded their way between these pillars.

Now, tilting forward, the little figures below running to get out of his way,Roberts realized what had happened. But now, it was too late for him to do anythingabout it. Roberts fell sixty-four feet.

The patrol ship, its blunt nose over the high parapet, suddenly rotated, swingingthe two main fusion turrets in an arc. A dazzling circle of glowing red appeared on

the surface of the parapet.

The patrol ship slammed forward, shot down along the edge of the downslide,



eased directly over it, moving in a blur—

Roberts, the game floor rushing up at him, his heart pounding, could feel thesmash before it happened—could feel the bones break and the flesh smash into

pulp—but, trained beyond the point of giving up, he drew his legs and arms in tospeed the rotation of his body. He put out arms and legs in the attempt to land on allfours, arms and legs bent, muscles braced to take the terrific impact, then either roll,or land as flat as possible.

The floor rose beneath him like a swinging giant sledgehammer. Somewhere,someone screamed at the top of his lungs. The pattern of the game floor—tokens,coins, and bills interlocked and interwoven, was suddenly big in Roberts’ face. Hehit the floor. The impact was crushing. With every ounce of his strength, hestruggled to push away the sledge-hammer that was smashing up below him.

For an instant, its bone-breaking power gripped him, crushing, squeezing, readyto burst him to a pulp—and then, somehow, everything swayed in the balance.Roberts’ straining muscles held. Then the force against him began to ease.

Incredulous, Roberts glanced up. Over the gold of the downslide, flashed alength of curving metal—the patrol ship.

Behind Roberts, Hammell, his face red and strained, blood vessels standing out,crouched on the polished game floor. Behind Hammell, Morrissey balanced on one

foot, and Bergen alighted gently on the shining floor.The scream sounded again, and now Roberts could place it. It came from the

ramp. He took a step toward the ramp, then paused blankly. There was something hewanted to do, but what?

His pulse, slowing now that his feet were firmly on the floor, and his breath,coming more easily now that the strain was over, seemed to be letting doors closebetween separate parts of Roberts’ mind. A vague uncertainty was replacing thesense of urgency.

“ Jump!” came the remembered order, spoken in his ear. But he had jumped.

Blankly, Roberts stood on the game floor, awaiting further orders, as somewherein the locked compartments of his mind, a memory clamored in vain for attention.

Overhead, siren screaming, red and yellow lights flashing in a blinding dazzle, IPS6-107-J finished stuffing the last screaming white-coated figure into its materialsintake, jammed in beside the rock drills and crusher jaws, and then the doors of theintake slid shut over them.

A voice boomed out, painfully magnified by an apparently defective speaker

system:

“…ATTENTION! … WARA … COMPLIANCE BLIH SSSSSSTRUCTION



IMMEDIATELY TO THE FULL EXTENT REQUIRED BY …RRRTANNNACTIVATION! THIS IS AN EMERGENCY ! … ZZZZZBBBYIMMEDIATE COMPLIANCE OR FACE THE FULL AND PROMPTAPPLICATION OF THE EXTREME PENALTY! … YOUR ATTENTION! …WARA … COMPLIANCE … SSSSSSSSTRUCTION IMMEDIATELY !”

This announcement, containing within itself an additional source of confusionfrom an overlapping repetition as if two speakers gave the same message at slightlydifferent times, crossed the gap where below the sparkling pillars and curving slidesthe patrons stared up from the motionless wheels and the oblong andhorseshoe-shaped tables. The announcement reached the sheer walls that borderedthe game floor like the sides of a canyon, to echo and reecho in a chaos of overlapping, totally incomprehensible commands.

Under the cover of this deafening uproar, in a dazzle of blinding red and yellow

flashes, with the siren starting up again in the background, Roberts suddenly foundhimself rising in the air, halfway up from the game floor, an emerald pillar glitteringoff to his right, the golden sheathing of the downslide curving through the air beforehim.

His perceptions were a chaos of overlapping sensations, his senses swamped bythe brilliance of the flashes, the volume of the commands, and the nerve-janglingeffect of the swelling siren:

FLASH ! (RED)“ ATTENTION !”“ IMMEDIATELY !”FLASH ! (YELLOW)“REQUIRED BY THIS RRRTAN…”FLASH ! (RED)FLASH ! (YELLOW)… rrrrrrRRRRAAAHHRRRRAA …

The curving hull of the patrol ship was just above him. The ramp seemed tomove under the ship, and then Roberts was dropped, bathed in red and yellow light,

reverberating commands, and vibrations that rattled his teeth. From the slantedsetback just aft the amidships turret belt, there was a tiny glint of reflected light.Something struck Roberts’ left forearm, and stung like a wasp. A wave of stingingfire went through Roberts, to leave him for an instant totally blank—and thensuddenly his awareness returned.

Roberts glanced up at the tapering tail of the patrol ship, crouched, and sprangup to seize the Number One reaction-drive nozzle. He pulled himself up onto themassive fin on which the nozzle was mounted, stepped up atop the Number Two fin,found the entrance hatch forward of the fin solidly locked, snarled under his breath,

walked up the setback with the turret belt’s Number Three fusion turret looking himin the eye and walked by the turret with the sleek gray curve of the patrol ship like theback of a metal whale underfoot. Now he saw that the upper snap-beam projector



head had been almost fully retracted into its well. Just behind the head was themotionless Number Three belt turret. Just before the head was the bulge of the mainupper turret, which was slowly idling around, swinging around a fusion gun bigenough for a man to put his arm in it up to the shoulder.

From somewhere aft came a grunt, and a faint clang, then another grunt and a lowcurse. Roberts sat down between the main upper fusion turret and the retractedprobe head, and leaned around the turret to search the game floor below. All aroundhim now was a weird singing sound, as from behind him came the low growl of Hammell’s voice.

“Is that the garbler?”

“If it isn’t,” said Roberts, “I don’t know what it is. Do you see her?”

“Nowhere. They separated her from us right after they hit us.”

“Where did they take her?”

“I don’t know.”

Roberts craned back over his shoulder, to see Morrissey and Bergen standing onthe massive horizontal fins, leaning inward against the upper fin, holding on to theupper reaction-drive nozzle.

Morrissey and Bergen looked back at him sadly, and shook their heads. Robertsdamned himself, looked urgently around, then heard, through a volley of

incomprehensible orders, a faint metallic scrape.

To his left, almost halfway down the curving hull, there slid out of a turret-likebulge in the hull a three-fingered hand on a thick flexible cable.

Roberts growled, “Hang on. Here comes the extrudible arm if you slip.”

Hammell looked at the glinting metal fingers, and gripped the thick support of thedetector head. The casino seemed to whirl around them. The upslide with its goldrail flashed past below. Directly ahead of them was a circular cut through the highparapet, at the top of the wall above the game floor.

Abruptly, the wall was behind them. The canted roof sheltering the walk and thegravcabs flashed past. They were in the open air. Roberts looked down over thecurve of the hull.

The green of the trees, the deep violet of roofs, the flashing silver and gold spireslooked up at him. How long ago had it been that Roberts, perfectly content, hadbeen on the upslide coming out of the Temple of Chance?

Now, still in the same day, he felt mentally blackjacked and, far worse, had anaching sensation that some part of himself had been cut off.

Where was the girl? Who had her? What were they doing to her?



Roberts banged his fist on the hull. “Open up. We’ve got to go back there!” ButIPS 6-107-J didn’t answer, and didn’t open the hatch. Instead, the wind whistledpast ever louder, and the scene below shifted in a rapid flow, as to either side andabove the big police cruisers sought to match the pace.

III. “Personal Considerations Are Not Important”

« ^ » As Roberts and his crew clung to the hull, the tiny satellite that earlier had relayedRoberts’ call to the patrol ship now relayed the patrol ship’s report, sending it to asecond tiny satellite, which flashed it on to a little sphere drifting outside the plane of the ecliptic in an orbit gradually drawing closer to the planet. From this little sphere,the message flashed straight to its destination, a region of space where nothing at allwas visible, but where the usual standard massometer would have run its needle off the spaceship scale.

Somewhat off-center in this invisible mass, a spare athletic individual, withcolonel’s eagles and crew-cut hair, impatiently paced in a small neat room.

“Damn it,” he said, “we don’t get a reading like that on the emotional probewithout good and sufficient cause. It never fails when it’s that extreme.”

The bulkhead which served as one wall of the room had a solid enoughappearance by the cot, whose post came within a yard or so of touching the massivedesk in the corner. But adjacent to the desk, the bulkhead seemed to have vanished,to show a strongly built man with piercing blue eyes sitting back, frowning, behind adesk similar to the colonel’s.

“ If there’s something, we should find it.”

“There’s no ‘if,’ ” said the colonel. “There’s got to be something there.”

“I have to admit, the e-probe suggests the intent , and with the amount of moneythat passes through that gamblers’ paradise, there’s bound to be the opportunity.”

The colonel shook his head.

“It’s worse than that. The emotional probe is no more perfect than any otherinstrument, but we don’t get this reading from intent alone.”

“Extreme intent—a strong lust for power—”

“No. As a matter of experience, we’ve found no degree of desire or

determination that produces this reading. There has to be belief in the imminent attainment of the objective. That’s for the degree of the reading. Next we have thebandwidth. That implies an organization of individuals all sharing this belief.”









“H’m … well—we’ve had three crews in there—there’s no indication of secretarmaments—there’s nothing to suggest that Tiamaz is any different than it ever was.”

“Except,” said the colonel, “a gradual steady rise in the probe reading.”

“It’s getting worse?”

“Correct.”

Beside the colonel’s desk, the lid of a pneumatic chute popped open, a shinymetallic cylinder popped partway out, opened, and ejected a message spool. A voicesaid, “Communications monitor. This is a message to Colonel Valentine Sanders,from J-Class ship 6-107. Please acknowledge receipt and read immediately.”

The colonel frowned. “I acknowledge receipt.” He reached for the message.

“And,” said the voice meticulously, “you are the aforesaid Colonel Valentine

Sanders?”

The colonel snarled, “I am the aforesaid Colonel Valentine Sanders.” Heunfolded the message and read aloud.

“IPS 6-107-J to SymComp (copy). IPS 6-107-J to Colonel Valentine Sanders,Chief, Operations Section (message). Current Code 060479.

“Crew of this ship attacked with intent to kill, in or near Temple of Chance, inPlanetary Capital of Tiamaz. Crew previously drugged. Code 66 suspected. Crew isnow safe and three assassins are in protective custody, following memory simulationand deep mental examination. Summarized results of this examination are as follows:

“The three prisoners are professional killers, currently in the pay of one ‘MariusCaesar,’ who controls a gambling syndicate on Tiamaz. Marius Caesar has seizedErena, sister of the hereditary ruler of Festhold, and is apparently holding her as ameans of coercing Festhold. For whatever reason, the three killers are all convincedthat Marius Caesar, as he calls himself, aims to become the ruler of Festhold, as ameans to seizing further power.

“The crew of this ship became involved in this situation as follows:

“1) Vaughan N. Roberts, Captain, saw the Festhold princess being taken underguard into the Temple of Chance. Roberts risked death by vaulting across a threehundred foot drop from one gravitic ramp to another, freed the girl from two thugs,found himself ringed by other thugs, and presented himself to them as an agent of the Festhold ruler. Roberts warned them that they faced instantaneous death, andtaking the princess on his arm, walked through the ring.

“2) Dan Bergen, Crewman, seeing Roberts vault onto the opposite ramp, andseeing an assassin take aim at Roberts, overpowered the killer, knocked him

unconscious, appropriated his weapons, secreted the unconscious assassin in atrash can, and went down the gravitic ramp into the Temple of Chance. He arrived

just as Roberts bluffed the ring of hired killers, one of whom began to call Roberts’



bluff. Bergen at once knocked this killer senseless.

“3) Crewmen Hammell and Morrissey, meanwhile, had been alerted by CrewmanBergen, and stepped off the descending ramp just as Roberts, with the princess,approached the ascending ramp.

“4) This whole sequence of events was viewed by the management of the Templeof Chance, which is owned by Marius Caesar. Three groups of four hired killerseach were dispatched to overtake Roberts, his crew, and the girl, who meanwhilehad left by gravcab. Roberts succeeded in leading two groups of the killers to thewrong places, but was caught by the third group on entering ‘Chez Dragon,’ arestaurant near the Temple of Chance. An airborne drug was administered toRoberts, his crew, and the girl. The girl was taken into the Temple of Chance byanother entrance. Roberts and his crewmen were deceived into jumping from thegravitic ramps at a height of about three hundred feet above the floor of the gaming

room.

“5) Apparently at the moment of the attack by gas, Captain Roberts sent theoverride command. IPS 6-107-J arrived barely in time to save Crewmen Hammell,Morrissey, and Bergen, by use of tractor beams. Captain Roberts was alreadystriking the floor. A tractor beam was used, however, on the principle that everythingshould be done until it is proved impossible to save the crewman. For some reasonthat is not known, Roberts survived this fall, apparently without serious injury.

“6) Discussion between Roberts and Hammell following administration of antidote shows that Roberts has one thought—to free the girl. He had given ordersthat IPS 6-107-J admit him and his crew, in order to return to the planetary capital.

“7) In view of the fact that this may have been a Code 66 drug, IPS 6-107-Jrequests instructions whether to readmit the crew.

“8) IPS 6-107-J requests instructions as to the disposal of the captured assassins.

“IPS 6-107-J to Colonel V. Sanders, copy to SymComp Current Code 060479.Message ends.”

The colonel looked up. Behind the other desk, the strongly built figure withpiercing blue eyes sat tilted back in his chair, thumb and forefinger to chin, frowningthoughtfully. Abruptly, he sat up.

“Someone’s out of his head.”

The colonel glanced back over the message, and nodded. “It must be that thekillers have a false picture of what is actually taking place. To them, it seems that theprincess—what’s her name?—Erena—is being held hostage. But that doesn’t fit.”

“No. That play would work some places. But not with Festhold. You might as

well grab a bear’s cub, and then tell the bear to act right or you’ll start chopping upthe cub. You’d never live long enough to get the threat completely formulated.”



“And this J-class ship’s symbiotic computer has that information. It knows it aswell as we do.”

“Come to think of it, Val, there’s a peculiar tone to the whole message. It’sstilted.”

The colonel scowled, pulled out his chair, sat down at his desk frowning, andreread the message. He shook his head. “There’s something here I don’t follow. Butwhile we grapple with it, Roberts is apparently stuck outside hanging onto a fin.”The colonel reached out to a dial on the wall, and quickly tapped out a call numberand his own identification code. A brisk voice spoke: “Communications Monitor.”

“Colonel Valentine Sanders to IPS 6-107-J.”

“Do you wish this message to be sent as you speak, or to be held for rereadingand correction?”

“Hold it for correction. Put the copy to SymComp, current code, and so on, inthe heading.”

“One moment. That is done. You may proceed.”

The colonel glanced at the sheet of message paper. “In reply to your messageCurrent Code 060479, the situation you mention highly important, but suggest somedata still missing. Admit Roberts and crew—Repeat, admit Roberts andcrew—regardless Code 66 risk. I take responsibility for full restoration of commandauthority. Repeat—I take responsibility for full restoration of command authority.”

The colonel glanced over the message. “Regarding disposal of the capturedassassins, refer this question to Roberts.”

The colonel glanced at the ceiling. “Monitor—Let’s hear that.”

He sat listening thoughtfully, then said, “Insert the name ‘Roberts’ before thewords ‘command authority’.—In both places where the words ‘command authority’are used.”

The Communications Monitor said primly, “The possessive case of the proper

noun ‘Roberts’?”

The colonel opened his mouth, repressed a snarl, and repeated, “Yes, the possessive case of the proper noun ‘Roberts’.”

“Very well. Then that is the message?”

“It is. Put the usual close on it, and send it out right away.”

“Very well.” There was a click . The colonel’s lips drew back from his teeth.

Across the two desks, which in the illusion of closeness created by the ship’scommunications system appeared to be in contact, the strongly built figure wasleaning back, grinning.



“—Do you have the impression now and then that this whole symbiotic computerset-up is somehow female?”

“Phew!” The colonel sat up. “Possessive case of the proper noun, Roberts.” Heglanced across the desks, and suddenly looked startled, “ ‘Female’?” He looked at

the message from the patrol ship. Before him, the words stood out: “Discussionbetween Roberts and Hammell following administration of antidote show thatRoberts has one thought—to free the girl.”

The colonel bit his lip, looked back in the message, and read: “Roberts riskeddeath by vaulting across a three hundred foot drop … freed the girl from two thugs,found himself ringed by other thugs … and taking the princess on one arm—” Helooked up. “You’re right. That must be what we’re up against. Roberts has fallen inlove with this girl! Every time something like that happens, we have a weird responsefrom any patrol ship involved. You might almost say they get jealous!”

“What sort is Roberts? Is he going to want a quick whirl with this princess?Festhold is the Federation’s main ally in this region, you know. And the Festholdershave very stern views. Or is he going to want to marry her? I’m assuming the girlmight be willing. But, even so, do you know what is required of someone who wantsto marry a princess of Festhold? It looks to me as if there’s the possibility of quite astew here … Say, Val—You took full responsibility for putting him back in charge of that J-ship, remember?”

* * *

Hammell, seated behind Roberts, clinging to the support of the detector head,said, “Hey, the hatch is opening up!”

Roberts craned around, watched Bergen and Morrissey come quickly andcarefully up the thick slanting fins, and drop in through the hatch.

Roberts murmured, “After you.”

Hammell twisted around, crouched, stepped down the slanting set-back just aft

the turret belt, and dropped through the hatch.Roberts took a quick look around at blue sky, drifting white clouds, and dark

green forest below, then followed Hammell through the hatch, which immediatelyclanged shut behind him.

Roberts pulled the hatch lever down, spun the lockwheel clockwise, and shovedthe clamp tight. He went down several steps out of the cramped aft section of ship,passed the bunks, ducked under the three-foot-thick shiny cylinder that ran thelength of the ship, and slid into the control seat. A quick glance at the external screenshowed drifting clouds above, green forest below, all gradually shifting left, whichtold him that the patrol ship was circling to the right.

On the battle screen, little symbols showed Roberts his own ship slowly circling



above a wild section of the planet, while behind him an array of police cruisersblocked him off from the capital of Tiamaz, with its endless gambling houses andpleasure palaces.

Roberts, frowning, pressed a button to the left of the instrument panel, near a

glowing lens lettered “Smb Cmp.”“What,” he said, “is the make-up of the government of Festhold?”

The symbiotic computer replied, “Festhold is at present in the control of aregent, acting for The King, who will assume control on reaching his twenty-firstbirthday. The government of Festhold is a hereditary monarchy, and descends fromfather to son, always in the male line, provided the heir passes two tests.

“The first test is religious, or moral. The King must be able to withdraw aparticular broadsword from a large dull crystalline rock situated near the altar in the

Cathedral of Truth. It is assumed by foreigners that some device controlled by thepriesthood decides whether or not the sword can be withdrawn from the crystal.This would enable the priesthood to pass on the fitness of the heir to the throne.

“The second test is political. The heir apparent must meet with the assemblednobility of the realm, address them, and receive the approval of at least two-thirds of the nobility.

“If the heir apparent fails either test, he is stripped of royal rank, and becomes thelowest nobleman of the realm. The tests are then repeated for those who stand next

in line.“If all the males of the ruling family should fail, the tests are repeated throughout

the nobility in order of rank. Any nobleman may take the test, or decline. Eachnobleman who fails becomes a commoner. The first man who passes both testsbecomes King. The full title is ‘Ruler and Warlord, King and Emperor of Festhold.’The King is a constitutional ruler in peacetime, and has dictatorial powers in wartime.He rules through a Council responsible to him, a Lords’ Chamber responsible to thenobility, and an Assembly of the Commons responsible to the general population.

“The rulers have all come from the same family for the past hundred and sixtyyears. This family, by a series of fatal accidents, is now reduced to the heir apparent,Prince Harold William, and several princesses. The actual control of the country is inin the hands of the Regent, Duke Marius Romeigne, who is the highest member of the peerage.

“It is taken for granted by the population that Prince Harold William will passboth tests and become King, and he is referred to commonly as ‘The King.’ He isnow four months short of twenty-one years old.”

The symbiotic computer came to the end of its explanation. There was a silence.

Hammell, Morrissey, and Bergen, grouped nearby, listening, glanced at Roberts.

Roberts said, “Name the princesses of the royal family.”



“Erena, Catherine, Eloise.”

“What rank or power do they have?”

“None save the title, ‘Princess of Festhold,’ an allowance, and a small personalretinue. Their husbands acquire no rank in marrying them, but their children, if of

age, are considered members of the royal family and eligible to be tested for thethrone if all members of the direct male line are wiped out.”

“H’m.”

The symbiotic computer added drily, “To marry a Princess of Festhold, thesuitor must be able to withdraw the sword from the crystal.”

Roberts looked up sharply. Morrissey winced. Hammell coughed. Bergen lookedconcerned.

“Suppose,” said Roberts, his voice even, “that he fails?”

“He is banished without further sight of the princess. He is forbidden to return.”

Roberts’ fingers tightened on the arm of the control seat. He drew a deep carefulbreath, then with an effort of will relaxed one group of muscles after another. Hisvoice sounded reasonably normal when he spoke.

“In the Temple of Chance, I met someone who called herself ‘Erena.’ She is alittle taller than my shoulder, has blonde hair and deep-blue eyes. She has greatpresence of mind, and after Bergen and I got her out of the Temple of Chance withthe help of Hammell and Morrissey, she said—” Roberts frowned.

“Let’s see, she said—” Roberts cleared his throat, and repeated slowly:

“ ‘My brother The King is more a warrior in his boyhood than these gamblers intheir prime. They have lowered him by their cunning debaucheries, but we will showthem the steel of Festhold cuts deeper than the gold of Tiamaz.’ ”

There was a momentary silence, then the voice of the symbiotic computer spoke.Now, for some reason, the stiffness was gone, and this voice had more of its usual

characteristic ring: “This is the exact wording, or a free rendering of the same?”Roberts glanced at this crew. “I think it’s close to exact—but I can’t swear to it.”

Morrissey said, “It sounds word-for-word to me.”

Hammell shook his head. “It’s close, but there’s a slight difference somewhere.”

Bergen said, “She put more emphasis on Festhold being stronger than Tiamaz.She said Festhold will cut much deeper than Tiamaz.”

Roberts said, “I think that’s right.” The symbiotic computer was momentarily

silent.

Roberts said, “It sounds to me as if this Regent aims to disqualify the King, and



take over himself. No one so unprincipled is safe to have as King of a place likeFesthold.”

The symbiotic computer replied matter of factly, “That is correct.”

“Before we do anything else,” said Roberts, “we need to get Erena out of that

casino.”

“It is not known that she is in the casino.”

“Then we have to find out.”

“This is inaccurate. No necessity to do this exists.”

Roberts said stubbornly, “I’m not leaving her there. I’ll get her out of there ordie trying.”

The symbiotic computer said tonelessly, “This is not necessary. The princessshould be in no immediate danger. The true problem is on Festhold, not here.”

Hammell and Morrissey glanced uneasily at each other. Bergen shook out ahandkerchief and mopped his brow.

Roberts said flatly, “There isn’t any choice in the matter. We’re going back.”

The symbiotic computer did not sound convinced. “The need is unproven.”

Roberts took hold of the drive controls. The controls resisted his pressure. Themuscles of Roberts’ arms stood out. The gravitor control yielded grudgingly to thestrain. The outside viewscreen showed the increase in speed as the landscape slidback below the bow.

The gravitor control began to pull with increasing force against Roberts’ grip.Roberts gripped the control harder. The ship continued to accelerate.

The battle screen began enlarging one after another of the police cruisers, as if toemphasize the danger. Roberts changed hands on the gravitor control, and reachedfor the firing controls. Hammell murmured fervently under his breath.

Roberts felt the resistance in the firing controls, and snarled, “Crew to battlestations! Prepare to fire by manual control!”

Hammell, Morrissey, and Bergen were gone in a flash. Hammell and Morrissey tothe main fusion turrets, Bergen to the manual control station governing the missilebay and belt turrets. There remained a number of smaller turrets that, for sheer lack of hands, could not be brought under manual control.

The voice of the symbiotic spoke disapprovingly. “This is an attack on a legalplanetary authority without justification. A patrol ship cannot be used forunauthorized personal ends. Moreover, this approach is stupid. Personalconsiderations are not important enough to justify illegal and stupid actions.”



The gravitor control began to pull with compounding force against Roberts’ grip.Grimly, he held the control in place. But, while he held it, it was becoming clear toRoberts just how ineffective a fight he could put up in a ship with the guns workedmanually, and the flying controls fighting him every step of the way. This was,moreover, as Roberts knew, only the first hint of what the symbiotic computer could

do. Already, there was a faint suggestion of a close stuffiness in the air. That wouldfollow from shutdown of the air system. To partly compensate for that, the entrancehatch would have to be propped open. And since that hatch had an automaticopen-and-shut control as well as the manual lock, merely keeping the hatch open wasgoing to be no small problem in itself.

Roberts, with straining muscles, held the controls in place, and glanced at thebattle screen. The police cruisers were swinging into position as if to block him. Thecommunicator buzzed imperatively.

“Police Cruiser 187 to IPS 6-107-J. You are approaching the border of theGreater Capital City Metropolitan Area. We warn you that intrusion on this border isforbidden except in case of a justified emergency situation, and we order you to stopunder penalty of arrest, fine, and punitive detention.”

Roberts released the gravitor control, which went all the way to its centering stopwith a sledgehammer thud. He spoke politely.

“IPS 6-107-J to Police Cruiser 187. We regret to inform you that this is a seriousemergency situation. Five members of the crew of this ship were attacked, gassed,and detained in the vicinity of the Temple of Chance inside the Capital CityMetropolitan Area. Four members of the crew have been recovered, but one remainsa prisoner. We wish to recover our missing crewman.”

“PC 187 to IPS 6-107-J. No ship of your designation has officially been admittedto any entry port on the planet.”

“IPS 6-107-J to PC 187. We entered under the guise of a space yacht, the GalaIV.”

Around Roberts, the stuffiness of the air was increasing. From time to time, the

lighting system flickered.

The voice from the police cruiser burst out, “Well, what the devil do you claimhappened? Did one of your crew give birth, or what? Four of you went in. Four of you came out. Where’s the problem?”

Roberts said evenly, “While on the planet, we accepted a volunteer.”

There was a further silence, then, “Are you authorized—”

“The captain of an Interstellar Patrol ship is fully authorized to accept and enlist

volunteers. I did so accept and enlist one volunteer, who thus became a candidatemember in good standing in the Interstellar Patrol. This crewman, after enlistment,was illegally attacked, illegally seized, and is now being illegally held captive on your



planet. I want this crewman released.”

“Well, I—can you identify this volunteer—this crewman?”

“Certainly. Princess Erena of Festhold. She has blonde hair, her eyes are blue,her height is approximately—”

“Princess Erena of Festhold! You can’t enlist—”

Roberts’ voice grated. “Can’t I?”

There was a silence. Roberts hadn’t been aware that the lights in the ship hadgradually dimmed. He only realized it when abruptly they came back to full power.The stuffiness in the air was suddenly gone.

Abruptly Hammell reported, “Full power on this turret!”

Morrissey’s voice repeated from a different station, “Full power on this turret.”Bergen’s voice was eager. “ Missile bay and turret belt ! Full power on automatic

control!”

Roberts checked the control board, found it worked easily, and said by routine,“Acknowledge. Stand by at battle stations.” He spoke coldly into the communicatorpick-up. “Are you deciding the enlistment policies of the Interstellar Patrol?”

“I—” Paralysis seemed to set in after the one word. It dawned on Roberts thatthe police officer on the other end of this hook-up had undoubtedly overheard

Hammell, Morrissey, and Bergen, and Roberts’ own order to, “Stand by at battlestations.” Anyone on Police Cruiser 187 would find it logical to think the InterstellarPatrol ship was preparing to attack.

Roberts’ voice was courteous but definite: “Princess Erena of Festholdvoluntarily requested to join our organization. I am fully qualified to pass on thefitness of any volunteer, and I adjudged this volunteer to be qualified. I accepted her.She thereby became a candidate-member of the Interstellar Patrol. I have threewitnesses here to back up my word. Now, are you, or are you not, going to recoverthis crewman for me?”

“But she’s a subject of Festhold!—And a member of the ruling family! Wecan’t—”

“That,” said Roberts, “is a problem you will have to settle with the Warlord of Festhold. I am sure he will feel the same way about this abduction as I do. But whatFesthold does to punish the crime and avenge the insult is entirely up to Festhold.

My problem has to do with a missing crewman. Either I get this crewman back unharmed, or I will take the matter up with Sector Headquarters, and you can dealwith them. Now, do I get my crewman back, or not?”

“I-I’ll have to contact Tiamaz Central Police Headquarters—but I don’t think wecan—”



From a previously unused speaker to the left of the instrument panel came a harshvoice: “Office of the Sector Controller, C. D. Johnson speaking. Captain, I have aroutine communications-monitor intercept keyed by the words ‘abduction’ and‘candidate-member.’ Do I understand correctly that a member of the InterstellarPatrol has actually been abducted on a Federation planet?”

Roberts realized with a start that the patrol ship was now backing him up. Heglanced at the coldly angry face on one of the small auxiliary screens to the right of the communications screen.

“Yes, sir,” said Roberts. “We were hit with a gas attack in the planet’s capitaldistrict, where we supposedly were under police protection, and were not supposedto carry arms. Only the intervention of my patrol ship saved me and three of mycrew members from being killed. Our recruit was seized, and the local authoritiesseem very reluctant to do anything about it.”

C. D. Johnson’s voice was flat.

“What planet is this?”

“Tiamaz.”

“Tiamaz, eh? All right, Captain. I’ll handle this direct through the PlanetaryManager’s office. Stand by to serve as message-relay station, and to either pick upthe patrolman or emplace the quarantine satellites.”

Roberts, who had not the faintest idea what all this meant said promptly, “Yes,

sir .”

A few minutes of total silence passed, each individual second of which seemed totake its own good time in passing, then two faces appeared before him on thedivided communications screen. One face was that of “C. D. Johnson.” The otherwas that of a lean, imperturbable-seeming man whose finely chiseled and aristocraticfeatures expressed distaste.

“You understand,” said Johnson, “this was a member of the Interstellar Patrol,Mr. Roman.”

“This is an unproven allegation,” said the aristocrat, one nostril twitching, as at anunpleasant odor. “The matter will be investigated in due course by the appropriateauthorities. I certainly shall not interfere in any way to speed or slow theinvestigation. When the investigation is completed, then we will notify you of theresult. Not before.”

“You realize that five members of the Interstellar Patrol were attacked, thatmurder was attempted against four of them, and that one has been abducted—”

“I reject this entire fabrication of allegations out of hand. Such things don’t

happen here. Very likely your crewmen were drunk or under the influence of drugs.As for this so-called ‘princess,’ more likely she was some ordinary lady of light



virtue your crewmen had engaged for the evening, and who left when she found theircompany boring. But the allegation, however transparently false, will be investigatedin due course. I trust that is satisfactory. Now, I’m afraid I have rather a pressingengagement. Was there anything else?”

Johnson leaned forward. “Do you have any conception, Roman, of the peoplewho take an interest in Tiamaz, but who hesitate to do anything because they knowthat the Space Police, the Space Force, and the Interstellar Patrol, are all backing upyour local police?”

“I’m sure I couldn’t care less. Good day, Policeman!” The aristocrat’s half of the communications screen went blank.

A moment later, Johnson’s half of the screen went blank, and his face appearedon one of the small auxiliary screens to the side.

“Roberts.”

Roberts, who was beginning to wonder if “C.D. Johnson” was a bluff by thepatrol ship, or might be real after all, said “Yes, sir?”

“Deploy three I.P. Planetary Quarantine satellites, and report to your Chief of Operations.”

Roberts said, “I hesitate to leave a—a good recruit in their hands, sir.”

“I fully agree with your sentiments, but we’ve done everything we can for the

moment. Any overt attempt to free the recruit might boomerang.”

Roberts nodded.

“I’ll deploy the satellites.”

“Good.”

The small auxiliary screen went blank. Roberts pushed the button near theglowing amber lens lettered “Smb Cmp.”

“Do we have three I.P. Planetary Quarantine Satellites on board?”

The voice of the symbiotic computer replied, “They are now being fabricated.”

“What will they do?”

“These satellites warn approaching ships that the protection of the InterstellarPatrol has been withdrawn from the planet involved.”

“What is to prevent the planet involved from knocking the satellites out of orbit?”

“Over the short run, the danger that such an attempt would involve. Over the long

run, the fact that something unfortunate will have happened to the governingauthorities of the quarantined planet. Satellites are never emplaced except at a planetgoverned by individuals seriously involved in underhanded manipulations.”



“C. D. Johnson,” said Roberts, “did not say it was necessary to report in person

to the Chief of O-Section.”

“That is correct.”

“It might,” said Roberts, “be a good idea to send in a brief report, and then go

back down to Tiamaz, and try to find our—our missing crewman.”

“It might be,” said the symbiotic computer, “except that this planet is alreadyheavily infiltrated in the attempt to determine the cause of an abnormally highemotional probe reading. Once the information from your conversation with thePrincess Erena was forwarded, the cause for the e-probe reading was clear: A cabalhas been formed for the purpose of seizing the government of Festhold, which is animportant Federation ally. An immediate check was carried out to determine thelocation of the Princess Erena.”

“ And ?” said Roberts.

“Immediately following her recapture, she was removed from the planet.”

With an effort, Roberts forced himself to stay seated. “She was put on a ship—”

“Yes.”

“Where is she?”

“We do not yet have this information. Tiamaz is located near the junction of important trade routes. Princess Erena was removed to the nearby Space Center. Wehave no definite information as yet regarding the flight she followed from this point.”

Roberts exhaled slowly. “We’re sure she’s not on the planet?”

“This is certain.”

“But she could be brought back .”

“That is correct. But it appears unlikely. There is no perceptible gain for theopposition in that course of action.”

“All right,” said Roberts. “Let’s get the satellites in place. Then I’ll report toO-Section. There must be some way to straighten this out.”

IV. The Inside Job

« ^ »

Roberts, his gaze intent, stood before the desk in the office of Colonel ValentineSanders, Chief of Operations Branch. Colonel Sanders frowned as he finishedreading the last page of a thin sheaf of papers, gave a low growl of irritation, tossed









the papers on his desk, and looked up.

“Have a seat, Roberts.”

Roberts pulled over a straight-backed chair from near the wall, and sat down.

The colonel said, “You know, Roberts, we have been going over Tiamaz with a

fine-toothed comb, trying to find out just what caused the emotional probe on theplanet to wrap its needle around the pin. And we had gotten nowhere. You walked into enjoy a little diversion and some good food following a successful jobelsewhere—and in well under seventy-two hours, you had the solution.”

Roberts said, “Dumb luck, sir.”

“Have you considered any alternative?”

“No, sir. There is exactly one thing in which I am interested. That is getting Erenafree of that collection of crooks.”

The colonel said thoughtfully, “ ‘ Erena.’ You realize you are speaking of aPrincess of Festhold, sister to the Heir Presumptive himself?”

Roberts said, “I know it, sir, but I’m thinking of the girl, not the title.”

“If you end up with one hand on that sword hilt, you’ll appreciate the significanceof the title.”

Roberts nodded. “I suppose if the local priests push a switch that turns on theelectromagnets and keeps the sword stuck inside the crystal, I will feel prettyfoolish.”

The colonel watched him alertly, and then smiled.

“Well, I’m glad to see that your intentions are honorable. On Festhold, they havea high regard for honor. And don’t be too sure they use electromagnets in thatcrystal. We’ve had some peculiar reports on the subject.” The colonel frowned.“But let’s get back to the question of an alternative explanation for this incident. Hasit occurred to you that the whole scene could have been faked for our benefit?”

Roberts shook his head.The colonel said, “Why not?”

“I don’t say it couldn’t have. I only say it hadn’t occurred to me.”

“What do you now think of the possibility?”

Roberts thought it over carefully. “It is peculiar that it worked out as it did—thatI happened to be coming out of the Temple of Chance as Erena was going in, andthat what she said to me answered a question you were working on that I didn’t evenknow about. But as for its having been a put-up job—No, sir. I don’t believe it.”

“Why not?”



“In the first place, I don’t think we were known to be on the planet. In the secondplace, I don’t see how they could have timed it so that Erena and I would reach thespot where the upslide passes near the down slide. Next, they couldn’t know that I’dbe looking in her direction. Finally, they couldn’t know in advance that I’d jump tothe other slide—it was pure impulse. If they were using her to pass information to

me, they gave a convincing imitation of being prepared to stop me until I happenedto say the right words when I got Erena away from then. And they would still havestopped me, except that Bergen showed up just in time.”

“They could merely have sounded rough.”

“Yes, but now we come to the most convincing proof, at least to me. After Erenahad passed her message to us, then they recaptured her, and came within a hair’sbreath of disposing of the rest of us.”

“According to the patrol ship, you survived that fall on your own.”

“No, sir.”

“The ship should know.”

“The fright from that fall temporarily cleared my head, and I was determined tosurvive if I could. I don’t know if it was owing to the drug, or if it just followed fromthe situation, but time seemed to slow down. I did everything I could to break theforce of the fall, and to distribute the impact, but I could tell that it was all going towork out the same way in the end—and then something happened to ease the

pressure. The patrol ship had gotten there, and was using its gravitor beams.Now—it may be that if I hadn’t tried, the ship couldn’t have broken the fall. But if the ship hadn’t gotten there, what I was able to do wouldn’t have been enougheither. I wouldn’t have survived that fall.”

The colonel nodded slowly. He cleared his throat. “It was either an extremely

clever method of planting information; or else it was what it seemed to be—a strokeof pure luck for us.”

Roberts nodded. “And I don’t think it was cleverness.”

The colonel said, “All right. I agree. Now, Roberts, we have a peculiar situationhere. As you know, Festhold is not part of the Federation. Here and there, there areindividual planets, and even star systems, which are independent. Festhold is one of the largest and most formidable of these. Strictly speaking, we have no right tointrude in Festhold’s internal affairs.”

Roberts said, “Neither does Tiamaz.”

“Exactly. That’s the other half of the dilemma. We have no right to intrude. Butwhether we have a right or not, we have to intrude. Festhold is too important to

permit outsiders to intervene while we stand by with our thumb in our mouth. If acombine from Tiamaz, for instance, should get control of Festhold, we would have acombination of the financial power of Tiamaz with the military power of Festhold.



Now—since Festhold is not a part of the Federation, Festhold is theoretically free tomake alliances where it will. It has always, so far , been allied to the Federation of Humanity. But if it should choose to join with some alien outfit, it would becompletely within its rights. But we couldn’t afford that.”

“Therefore, Festhold must be influenced?”The colonel nodded, and picked up the report he had been reading when Roberts

came in. “Festhold must be influenced. Yet, no proofs can remain that Festhold has

been influenced. And Festhold is highly developed technologically. Crudeinterference would risk creating a serious reaction against us. Festhold is thereforesubject only to occasional and very careful influence.” The colonel looked Robertsdirectly in the eye. “Nearly always, Roberts, we are forced to rely on an inside job.”

Roberts noted the colonel’s emphasis, but looked blank. “I’m not familiar—”

“I know it. But when this job is over with, you will be, believe me.”

Roberts straightened alertly. “Sir, I’m sorry, but—”

“Never mind that, Roberts. This—”

Roberts voice stayed polite and respectful, but took on an undertone of stubbornand unyielding determination. “Sir, excuse me, but I have to say this.”

The colonel started to speak, but Roberts spoke first: “ I have to find Erena .”

The colonel straightened in his chair as if drawn up by a hand at the back of hisneck. He grinned suddenly, and raised his right hand, palm out.

“Are you prepared, Roberts, to risk your life for this girl?”

“Yes.”

“You realize she is part of a royal family in a place where royalty commandsrespect?”

“Yes.”

“Will you, if necessary, resign from the Patrol?”

“If I have to, to get freedom of action.”

The colonel tossed across the desk the report he had been reading. Robertsglanced from the colonel to the report, and picked up the report, to read:

TIAMAZ REPORT—SUMMARY:

1. Routine emotional probe of this planet revealed (see sequence list for dates)

presence of a group engaged in profoundly illegal and apparently dangerous cabal.2. Repeated attempts to identify the individuals involved failed, although they were



localized in the Tiamaz Capital District—the main gambling district as well as theadministrative center of the planet.3. An off-duty I.P. captain and crew, in a casino on the planet purely for pleasure,accidentally encountered the Princess Erena of Festhold, who in some stillundetermined way appealed for their help. They responded at once, and spirited her

out of the grip of the casino employees.4. Princess Erena stated that a Tiamaz cabal had control of her brother, theheir-apparent of Festhold, and …

Roberts skimmed the description of what he already knew, flipped to the nextpage, and suddenly stopped.

7. Princess Erena, still drugged, was rushed to the nearby Space Station. Checks atfurther stops, boardings, and transelectronic surveillance, show that she was putaboard a fast liner bound for Festhold, with only two stops on the way. This liner is

being shadowed by an I-class patrol ship,8. A preliminary emotional probe of Festhold reveals two distinct spectra, oneintense, and the other faint but detectable. The distinct spectrum has the usualcharacteristics of Festhold. The faint spectrum closely matched that found onTiamaz.9. The conclusion seems inescapable that the two are connected, and that a groupbased partly on Tiamaz is attempting to gain control of Festhold.10. Owing to the seclusion of the crown prince of Festhold, it has so far proveddifficult to …

Roberts looked up, and drew a deep breath. He handed the report to the colonel,and cleared his throat. “So, Erena is being taken back to Festhold?”

“Evidently.” The colonel tossed the report in a wire basket at the corner of hisdesk.

Roberts said, “Sir, I would like to get her away from them.”

The colonel briefly had the look of a farmer whose pet bull has just knocked therails loose from the fence. The colonel’s expression was alert, and extremelycalculating. Then slowly, he sat back. His expression became frank and open.

“I don’t blame you, Roberts. But the girl is, of course, bait.”

Roberts looked startled. “Why do you say that, sir?”

“The manner in which Tiamaz refused our demand for the girl was provocativein the extreme. It was an invitation to us to take severe measures. And this princesswas already on the way to Festhold by the fastest available transportation. Why toFesthold?” The colonel leaned forward. “Any seizure of the princess by outsidersfrom the Federation would raise feelings against the Federation.”

Roberts winced. “And we’re already on record—”

“Right. And bear in mind, if what we think is true, the cabal will want some



excuse to pry Festhold loose from its traditional automatic alliance with theFederation.”

Roberts sat back. The colonel said quietly, “I don’t think an outright seizure of this princess would be a good idea.”

Roberts nodded, then frowned. “But suppose this clique should fake akidnapping, and blame us for it?”

The colonel smiled. “Exactly why we have our ‘I’-class ship on the spot.”

Roberts smiled, then thought it over a second time. “People,” he said, thinking of the deep blue eyes and the honey-blonde hair, “might get hurt in the process.”

The colonel said carefully, “I’m more worried, myself, about what might happento her after she gets there. We can shadow the ship, but we can’t provide protectiononce she’s on the planet. Everything there is under control of the Realm of Festhold.”

Roberts felt the overpowering urge to do something. The colonel sat back,frowning, and said carefully, “It will have to be an inside job. I had intended to offerthis job to you, Roberts. Among other things, it would have put you where youcould almost certainly keep an eye on Erena. But since you seem to feel that onlydirect intervention would work—”

Roberts had a vivid picture of a little pea disappearing under a walnut shell,which, being rapidly switched with another shell, and another, suddenly presented

him with a blank row of shells, while the pea itself was now elsewhere.

Roberts looked at the expressionless face of the colonel. Roberts smiled. “I’dsay it was under the center shell, sir—if, that is, you haven’t palmed it.”

The colonel looked blank. Roberts leaned forward, his voice quiet. “I want to seeher again, and I want to see her unhurt. If this ‘inside job’ will help me do it, I’minterested. You don’t have to bait the hook with fresh worms, or spin me aroundblindfolded half-a-dozen times to get me off-balance. What do you have in mind?”

The colonel grinned, and sat back. “Nevertheless, Roberts, it would be one hellof a spot for you, if you’re in love with this princess.”

“I’d be where I could see her?”

“Oh, yes.”

“And block any attempt to hurt her?”

“Very possibly.”

Roberts frowned. “I don’t see the drawback.”

The colonel said drily, “You would even be free to love her—”



Roberts looked at him sharply. The colonel smiled angelically, and finished thesentence: “—as a brother.”

Roberts frowned, then felt the sudden chill as a hint came to him of just what an“inside job” might be.

He sat up straighter, and his voice came out in a growl. “Don’t stop there. Whatis it?”

The colonel dropped all pretense, and began to explain.

V. Reborn

« ^ » The high whine of the equipment, the white-swathed figures bending over him, thevoice calling methodically in the background, all began to fade as the helmet waslowered carefully over his head. On the screen within the helmet, before his eyes,two faint dots merged into one, and the one expanded, faded, formed a tiny dimdistant scene, as of a room seen through a pinhole, and then faded again. ThenRoberts felt as if this room rushed toward him, and he toward it, and then painfullythe motion ceased, and began again, and stopped. Then, after an indeterminate

expanse of time, suddenly the scene began to come into focus, the universe seemedto flow past and through him in a rush, there was a sensation as of a faint click

suggesting something locking in place, and Roberts, head aching, body as heavy aslead, looked dizzily around a room brightly lit by moonlight. One thought spunthrough his mind:

“Thank God! It’s over with!” Exhausted, he fell asleep.

Somewhere, birds were singing. In the distance, a bugle call sounded sharply,

and was methodically repeated. There was a faint murmur of voices.

There was a casual double rap on a door, a high-pitched exchange of laughter,and Roberts was jarred awake. He saw, first, a wide window made of many smallpanes of glass, beyond which moved a branch bearing many large light-purpleflowers with yellow centers. Beyond the lightly moving branch was a pale blue skywith a few high distant clouds.

The branch was bathed in sunlight, which shone into the room on a far lesspleasant scene. There was a pile of dirty clothes below the window. A stack of

books leaned against the wall beside the window, and a second stack had fallen overonto the floor. In the corner, a steel clothes locker stood open, to show half-a-dozenuniforms on hangers. Against the side of the clothes locker leaned a businesslike









sword. In a rack on the wall beside the locker were two well-oiled rifles and ahandgun.

The room was a corner room, and the other wall had a second large window,through which bright daylight flooded a desk littered with crumpled papers, its finish

marked with innumerable rings where glasses had been set down. Beside the desk was a large wastebasket filled to overflowing with empty bottles.

Beside the desk stood a girl of eighteen or nineteen, heavy, wearing a tight pink skirt and a tight flowered blouse, her light-brown hair carelessly pulled back. In herleft hand she carried a silver tray bearing an assortment of dishes, glasses, flavorings,and a white linen napkin which stood up in a tentlike peak.

“Well, good morning, Charmer,” she said irritably, looking around. “Where doyou want this?”

Roberts tried to sit up, and lay back with a gasp. The girl looked at him, put thetray on the edge of the bed, set her hands on her hips, and burst out laughing.

“What a sight! Gahr, you really laid it on last night, didn’t you! Well, there’s thetwist on the tray under the napkin. You wanted it, so there it is. You’ve triedeverything else, so I suppose you might as well try that. But don’t say I didn’t warnyou—the shape you’re in, Charmie Boy, it will blow your brains right out your ears,Duke Marius will crack your knuckles again when you come around.”

She turned to leave, paused, and said, “In case you’re interested, the tutor will be

here in an hour.”The door shut with a thud and a click, and Roberts lay with the room swimming

around him, a blinding headache, and a sense of feverish unreality.

The colonel’s words came back to Roberts, sharply emphasized by what hadhappened so far: “An ‘inside job,’ ” the colonel had said, “is no bed of roses,Roberts. And tough as I know you are, I’m not so sure you won’t find this to be alittle more than you bargained for. But somebody has to do it, and you have apersonal interest in what happens to Princess Erena. If you want to do it, I will bevery happy to have this problem taken off my hands.”

Roberts had said, “I still don’t know what the job is.”

“The information you gave us dovetails with other information that we hadn’tadded up. A series of accidents—each one perfectly understandable—eliminated allbut one of the direct male line of the present royal family of Festhold. The Duke of Romeigne was chosen as Regent, and incidentally took over the guardianship of theheir, Prince Harold William. Our information is that the heir has acquired a reputationamongst the higher nobility as a ne’er-do-well. The Regent isn’t blamed for this. Butwhat you’ve been told suggests that the Regent may very well be responsible. It

looks like a case of destroying the heir in order for the Regent to become King. TheRegent is evidently part of the cabal we’re trying to stop. If we can save the heir, we



derail the whole cabal.”

“I follow that,” said Roberts. “But if I understand this correctly, the heir is testedwhen he reaches twenty-one.”

“That’s right.”

“And he is now four months short of being twenty-one years old?”

The colonel nodded. Roberts said, “How long has this Duke of Romeigne beenundermining the crown prince?”

“Since shortly after the death of King Charles William of Festhold, at the Battleof the Ring Nebula, when the prince was nearly eighteen years old.”

Roberts thought it over. “Up to that time, the prince was considered to be allright?” The colonel nodded.

Roberts said, “In that case, I’d think conceivably it could be done—but fourmonths is a short time to train someone who has been systematically untrained forabout three years. The worst part of it is, how do we reach him?”

“Exactly why it has to be an inside job.”

“We’re back to that again.”

“It’s the only way we can find to handle this.”

Roberts sat up exasperatedly. “What is it?”

The colonel glanced off at a distant corner of the room. “To explain the processis beyond me. But I can tell you what happens. You will go down the hall toM-Section, having bathed thoroughly, shaved, and received a haircut, and wearing ahospital gown, you will be wheeled on a stretcher into a totally aseptic room where asort of helmet will be lowered over your head. You will see a scene indistinctly, andwhen this scene finally becomes clear to you—assuming it does—you will findyourself apparently transformed into Harold William, heir to the throne of Festhold.”

Roberts say up straight. “You mean, my consciousness will somehow be

translated into his body?”

“That’s what I’ve been trying to avoid saying. But that is substantially it. Yourconsciousness will be operating his body—and from the information we have aboutthe shape this prince is in, that will be no picnic.”

“M’m. The idea is, to put someone already trained on the spot, to train the princeunder the nose of the Regent?”

“Exactly. Or rather, that’s half of it.”

Roberts said, “And where is the prince’s consciousness. Do the two egos sharethe same body, or—”



“The prince’s consciousness will be here, Roberts. Try to think of the physicalbody as the old metaphysicists spoke of it, as a ‘vehicle.’ You will be operating theprince’s vehicle. The prince—”

Roberts said flatly, “No.”

The colonel smiled. “I see you now have the picture.”

Roberts drew a deep breath, and let it out slowly. The colonel said, “You seewhy it is going to be no easy job to find a volunteer.”

Roberts said, with feeling, “I see that .”

The colonel nodded. “I suppose I will end up with the job. I can tell you, I don’trelish it.”

“Is there an actual transfer of—of soul or spirit—or is it a form of overriding

signal by which one individual here, controls the other’s physical mechanism there,and vice versa?”

The colonel shook his head. “There are two explanations, a scientific explanation,and a metaphysical explanation, and frankly I don’t fully understand either of them.As far as I’m concerned, the process isn’t actually understood. For convenience inthinking of it, I look on it as switching pilots from one ship to another, or driversfrom one ground vehicle to another. But that’s not all of it because, if one of the twobodies involved should be fatally injured, the ‘driver’ in the other one dies.”

Roberts looked blank. “That is, the original ego—or the other?”

“The original.”

“So if I should go along with this, and the prince falls out a window, that kills me

?”

The colonel frowned. “Let’s be sure we have this straight. To start with, there areRoberts and Harold William, the prince.”

Roberts said drily, “I can follow it that far.”

“All right, now by my simplified approach to this, we need to distinguish onlytwo parts to each individual. The official explanations are a lot more complicated,believe me; but as far as I’m concerned, two parts are enough. Call them ‘vehicle’and ‘driver.’ ”

“All right.”

“Now, suppose we abbreviate ‘Roberts’ as ‘R‘, and ‘Harold William as ‘HW.’And abbreviate ‘driver’ as ‘D’ and ‘vehicle’ as ‘V’. We then have four parts, RD,RV, HWD. and HWV. Now, regardless of which driver is in control of which

vehicle, if RV is fatally injured, that finishes RD. If HWV is fatally injured, that finishes HWD. Don’t ask me why.”



“That,” said Roberts, “gives me a profound desire to keep RD in charge of RV.”

Colonel Valentine Sanders nodded glumly. “I have the same urge to keep VSDrunning VSV. But I’m afraid it isn’t going to work out.”

“What happens when this spoiled prince takes over the ‘vehicle’ of whoever

volunteers for this? Is this ne’er-do-well free to amuse himself as he wishes?”

The colonel looked shocked. “That way, we would throw away half of ouradvantage. No, he will be put through a rigorous course of training, and watchedevery second.”

Roberts thought it over. “I still don’t like it.”

“Who would?”

“Suppose the ne’er-do-well declines to cooperate?”

The colonel smiled. “Believe me, Roberts, we can guarantee cooperation. But Idon’t think that difficulty is likely. The prince comes from a long line of ablewarriors, and in my opinion he will respond to the right impulses. He’s just beenkept carefully isolated from the right impulses.”

Roberts was thinking of Erena, completely under the control of the members of the cabal, and being sent back to a place where she had no one to protect her excepta brother kept carefully incapable of protecting anyone. Once again he saw, and felt,her look of appeal.

Roberts said, “I’ll do it.”

And now, with the click of the door in his ear, the headache throbbing in timewith his pulse, and the room swimming around him, Roberts’ right hand—or ratherPrince Harold William’s right hand—reached out, pushed aside the napkin on thetray, and picked up the twisted bit of paper.

VI. “Indisposed?”

« ^ » Roberts, startled, watched the hand, faintly trembling, open the paper, and shake thecontents into a tall glass of water on the tray. The hand then picked up the glass of water, and approached the Prince’s lips.

Roberts clamped his—Harold William’s—jaws and lips tightly shut, and stoppedthe hand partway from the tray.

“…drink…” said a small voice clearly in his ear.









The hand began to approach with the glass. The small voice spoke again clearlyin his ear.

“…You will drink … your hand will shake the powder into the glass…” said thesmall voice … “and then the hand will carry the glass to your mouth, your lips will

open, and you will swallow, again and again … you will drink the draught…” saidthe small voice …“you will drink it to the end…”

Roberts’ lips trembled. The hand approached with the drink. Roberts glancedaround. No one was in the room with him. The voice had spoken in his ear— almostas if it were inside his head. Roberts stopped the approaching hand.

“…You will drink…” said the small voice … “your lips will open and you willdrink … The hand will carry the glass to your mouth, your lips will open, and…”

Roberts concentrated on the hand, moving it further away. He tipped the glass

and deliberately emptied it onto the scratched hardwood floor. When the glass wasempty, he turned it upside down, and put it on the tray. The voice was abruptlysilent. The headache was gone.

Roberts carefully swung his—that is, the prince’s—feet to the floor. He got up,and became conscious of a profound weakness. Roberts seemed to be operating anungainly piece of apparatus, rather than merely walking across the room.

Around the corner of the room was a door to a small bathroom. Roberts got atowel, and mopped up the pool on the floor, being careful to get none of it on his

hands. What the active ingredient of “twist” might be, Roberts didn’t know, and hewasn’t certain whether it might leave a tell-tale, incriminating stain on his hands. Heput the sodden towel in the flush toilet, held on to the dry end, and pressed thebutton that worked the toilet.

The outside door of the bedroom came open, and the same female voice calledin, the words faintly sarcastic, “Tutor in half-an-hour, Charm.”

Roberts, frowning, released the button, went out to the door of the room andlooked it over. The door was held by three hinges on the left, and had no lock,keyhole, chain, or other device on the right to keep it shut, except a knob. The knobwas placed unusually high. Roberts, still with the sensation that he must force eachungainly motion, brought the chair over from the paper-cluttered desk, and set it bythe door. The chair back was eight inches below the knob. Roberts put the chairback by the desk, went into the bathroom, finished with the towel, washed, came outand looked over the breakfast on the tray.

Methodically, tasting each bite cautiously, he ate two slices of toast, a smallcontainer of a kind of dark-purple jam, and drank a small glass of clear pinkish juicethat was sweet and faintly astringent. He reached for the milk on the tray, in its talldark-brown glass, and then hesitated.

He took the small clear empty glass that had held the juice, rinsed it, considered



the milk for a moment, then poured part of it slowly into the juice glass.

The milk poured out with a peculiar suggestion of foam—yet there was no foam.Roberts, frowning, emptied the small glass carefully into the sink, caught his breath,and put a finger in the milk.

There was a faintly gritty feel, as of countless very tiny grains or capsules, thatcrushed between his fingers to form a faintly sticky slime. Roberts emptied most of the milk from the glass, put the glass back on the tray, and rinsed the sink.

There was brisk knock on the door. A voice, high-pitched, with a peculiar catch,called out, “Lessons, Your Ex!”

Roberts stood up slowly, and looked at the door. He spoke carefully, and theprince’s voice came out, deep, with a pleasant timbre.

“Come in.”

The door opened. A short, plump, red-faced, perspiring man of about thirty, hishead completely shaven, stepped in and cast a quick perceptive glance at the tray,and then at the figure of Prince Harold William, standing silently before him.

The tutor shut the door and snickered. “How is it, Ex?”

Roberts was unconsciously adding up the maid’s dress and manner, the smallvoice in his ear, the “twist”, the tiny capsules in the milk, and now the tutor’sappearance and way of speaking. The tutor giggled again.

“Can’t move, eh? Oh, but Duke Marius will be displeased!” The tutor waggledhis forefinger. His grin widened. “Naughty, naughty, fellow! Well—what shall welearn today?” He came closer, grinning widely, his teeth shining, his expressionarchly mischievous.

Roberts, groping amongst the unpromising bits and pieces of what he hadexperienced so far, felt a profound desire to deal out a few blows for a change.

“Strange,” said Roberts, casting the prince’s expressive voice in a slightly lowerpitch.

The tutor paused, glanced at the tray, and giggled. “Yes—that’s the onlydrawback—it’s unpredictable. But such wonderful visions, sometimes. Mysticexperiences, actually. What are you seeing?”

“A throne,” said Roberts carefully, “a throne, and someone is seated upon it.”

The tutor’s brows arched upward. His eyes blinked rapidly. “Who, Your Ex?”

“I know the face,” said Roberts, keeping his voice low, and gazing across theroom as if he actually saw something there beside the closed door.

“Whose face?” demanded the tutor curiously.



“He is speaking,” said Roberts slowly. “Why—it is the King!”

The tutor blinked. His eyes blazed. “What king? Duke Marius?”

Roberts spoke carefully. The trance-like tone he was trying for came outnaturally, helped by what was apparently the natural lassitude of the prince.

“Yes,” said Roberts slowly, looking at the door, “but I thought—I thought it wasan accident … then, that is treason … I did not know…”

The tutor whirled, stared at the door. Robert went on, “Then they are murderers,and we must have vengeance … I will block the traitor’s way to the throne at allcost…”

The tutor spoke nervously. “Here—here now, Ex—I mean, Your—YourExcellency—you’ve having a bit of a bad time, that’s all. This vision will go away,and you will have another—God ! Who would have thought it !—take it easy,now—you’ll be all right!”

Roberts turned, and walked carefully across the room to the locker. He pickedup the sword, still sheathed, and turned. The tutor blinked, then backed toward thedoor. There was a harsh rap on the door. The tutor gasped. The door opened.

A tall dark-haired figure stepped in, wearing a jacket of black velvet with a goldchain around his neck supporting a gold eagle emblem, and also wearing bluetrousers with vertical gold stripes at the sides. Directly behind him were two officersin dark green uniforms, one carrying a slender gold baton decorated with eagles and

oak leaves.

The tall man looked ironically at the prince and bowed with flawless grace. Hisvoice was gravely deferent.

“Your Excellency, as you mount the throne in less than four months, I deemed iturgent that you make the acquaintance of Field Marshal du Beck, and of GeneralHugens, our Chief of the General Staff. I—” He paused, and his voice becamesmoothly considerate. “I assume you are not—not indisposed .”

The tutor began urgently, “Your Grace, he—”

Roberts was finding considerable difficulty in operating the prince’s vocalorgans. But, once started, the resonant voice silenced the tutor in mid-sentence.

“I am delighted,” said Roberts, and the voice came out grave and majestic, andseemed to fill the room. “I am delighted and honored to meet two such distinguishedsoldiers.”

Roberts set the sheathed sword carefully against the locker, and turned towardthe three in the doorway. Duke Marius was looking blankly at the tutor. The tutor,

perspiring heavily, had his mouth open, but no words were coming out.

Field Marshal du Beck had been looking over the pile of papers on the desk, and



the stack of bottles bulging out of the waste basket, while General Hugens’ gaze wasfixed on the oiled guns in the rack. At the prince’s voice, the expressions of bothofficers cleared. They smiled, reddened slightly, and bowed.

“I appreciate your concern, Marius,” the prince’s voice went on, filling the room

with its tones of majesty and power, “but I could never be too indisposed to seeField Marshal du Beck and General Hugens. I particularly wish to see them today. Iwant their advice on two subjects. Pray come in, gentlemen.”

Field Marshal du Beck, and General Hugens, clearly pleased and flattered,stepped in,

Duke Marius took the tutor urgently by the arm. Roberts, aware that for themoment he had the initiative, did not hesitate to wring the last ounce from it. Theprince’s voice took on a hint of displeasure. “ Marius.”

The Duke looked up in surprise and perplexity. The faces of Field Marshal duBeck and General Hugens expressed a quiet contentment, which suggested toRoberts that the two officers were not part of the cabal, and were not overly fond of the regent.

The tutor sucked in his breath, and burst out, “He’s drugged , Your Grace!”

The prince’s voice filled the room with quiet majesty as Roberts faced thestartled officers. “That is the first point, gentlemen, on which I require yourassistance. But first—” Roberts glanced at the duke, whose composure had

returned. The prince’s voice now held an audible undertone of disapproval.“Have you finished whispering with the tutor, Marius?”

The duke had plainly recovered from his surprise. His eyes glinted. His voice waspitying. “I am concerned about your progress, Harold.”

The prince’s voice filled the room majestically. “That concern, Marius, is onewhich I share. I again ask if you are finished with this tutor. If so, he is dismissed.”

The duke put his hand on the tutor’s arm. The tutor looked as if he wished hecould vanish. The duke looked gravely at the prince.

“The charge,” said the duke silkily, “is most serious, Harold. Perhaps you shouldanswer it.”

“If Field Marshal du Back or General Hugens would pour that milk from its glassinto the smaller glass on that tray,” said the resonant voice, “and observe if there issomething unusual about it, that will help me to determine whether I have beendrugged.”

Field Marshal du Beck cast an intent glance at Duke Marius and the tutor, then

looked at the overflowing wastebasket, and hesitated. General Hugens glanced at theoiled weapons in their rack, and looked the prince in the eye.



The prince said, “Pour it slowly, General, and observe if there is what appears tobe a foam.”

The general set his gloves by the tray, and poured slowly.

Duke Marius said, “Foam is not unusual on milk.”

Roberts didn’t answer. He was wondering if the grit or tiny capsules might bynow have dissolved in the milk. The tutor edged toward the door.

General Hugens said, in a low voice, “Look here.”

Field Marshal du Beck put his gloves by the tray, and bent over. “H’m. It is like avery fine sand.”

Roberts, relieved, glanced at the tutor, who was now at the door. The prince’smajestic voice again filled the room.

“You will remain here, tutor, unless—” Roberts glanced at the duke—“unless,Marius, for some reason you now have changed your mind and wish him to leave.”

Before the duke could reply, Roberts spoke to the two officers. “It was myexperience that whatever is in that milk has a mildly gritty feel to the fingers and,when crushed, has the feeling of a glue or sticky paste.”

General Hugens at once put his thumb and forefinger into the milk, rubbed thumband forefinger together, eyed the ceiling thoughtfully, and handed the glass to thefield marshal, who repeated the experiment. Duke Marius glanced uneasily at thegenerals with their fingers in the milk.

“Gentlemen, this situation is becoming ridiculous.”

Roberts said at once, “It was your idea, Marius.”

The duke turned angrily. His voice was like the crack of a whip. “Henceforth you

will speak respectfully! Your tutor has something to say which is very serious,Harold.”

Prince Harold William’s magnificent voice created a contrast in tone which made

the duke sound peevish. To Roberts’ delight, the sarcasm of his own words wastranslated by the prince’s voice into a crushing rebuke:

“ ‘Henceforth’ is a very long time, Marius. Does your authority extend beyondfour months?”

Duke Marius stiffened, paled, swallowed, then smiled and relaxed. He glanced atthe tutor. “Twist is unpredictable. It’s said, you know, that our ancestors called it‘courage in a pipe.’ ”

The tutor said nervously to the duke, “May I go now?”

Roberts said to the two officers, “Gentlemen, have you any opinion to offer on



that substance.”

Duke Marius crossed the room before they could answer, picked up the waterglass on the tray, and sniffed sharply. “There you are, gentlemen. The odor is faintbut distinctive. Twist . Here. Smell it for yourself.”

The general and the field marshal each sniffed sharply, and looked troubled.

Roberts ignored the duke, and said, “ Is it twist?” The prince’s voice soundedconcerned and curious, but nothing more. The field marshal’s frown vanished.

“I should say so, Your Majesty. As for this other substance, I suspect a sedativeof some kind. You see, these innumerable tiny capsules have walls of differentthicknesses, which successively dissolve away over a period of time. It is evenpossible, using drugs of different types in capsules of different wall thickness, tohave roughly timed drug effects. We have used this in prisoner interrogation. The

prisoner, not realizing that his body is being subjected to drugs of carefully selectedtypes, believes that he himself is, for example, losing his nerve—it is quite possibleto cause him to tremble involuntarily, for instance.”

Roberts said, “Could this be used to create a feeling of fatigue?”

“Yes, Sir. The sensations of the prisoner subjected to this can be manipulatedalmost at will.”

Duke Marius motioned the perspiring tutor to leave the room. As the door closedbehind him, Roberts said, “The most important duties of a ruler, if his realm is well

organized, are military. Whatever else he may know, he must understand the art of war, or he is unfit to lead.”

The field marshal nodded and smiled. The general said approvingly, “That is true,Your Majesty.”

Duke Marius said in irritation, “Let me point out, he is not yet king. Do notaddress him as ‘Your Majesty.’ If he fails—”

Roberts said coldly, “But he won’t.”

The effect of these three simple words, in Prince Harold William’s majesticvoice, momentarily gave even Roberts pause. The words seemed to ring in the air,an inviolate statement that could not even be questioned.

Duke Marius’ mouth came open. A fine perspiration appeared on his brow. Heturned as if to answer, but his voice failed to function, and his gaze fell as if his lidshad grown heavy.

Roberts suppressed a sudden elation, and said gravely, “Gentlemen, I regret tohave to say this, but facts are facts. That milk is apparently drugged. Evidently there

was twist in the water glass. These are by no means the only peculiar manifestationsI have noticed recently, but these things we have physically before us. I think youwill understand when I say that I want a complete change of staff here, at once, and



that I want a military guard unit I can call upon at any time. Other male members of my family have died in the comparatively recent past. Apparently, their deaths wereaccidental. But if an attempt is being made to tamper with the throne—” Robertslooked directly at Duke Marius—“I intend to unmask the traitors and kill them.”

Field Marshal du Beck, watching intently, was the first to regain his voice.“Argent Company of the Royal Guard will be sent here at once, Your Majesty, witha mess unit to cook your meals. The Royal Guard is of course directly under yourpersonal command. You are the colonel of the regiment, and have been, by directline of inheritance, since the death of the King, your father.”

Roberts had vainly been trying to unlock certain memories that must be availableto Prince Harold William himself, but having had no practice with the technique,Roberts had had no success. He cleared his throat, and spoke carefully.“Excellent. There is another point—”

“Yes, Your Majesty?

Duke Marius looked up, but managed only an incredulous stare at the twoofficers, who paid no attention.

Roberts said, “It seems to me that by accident or design, my military educationhas been neglected. I want to repair this neglect. Can you find someone capable of acting as a teacher—”

Field Marshal du Beck beamed. “I would myself accept the great honor, but the

military situation at the moment requires my full attention. Our Stath opponents aremuch encouraged by the recent cuts in our fleet strength. But General Hugens has anexcellent deputy, who—”

General Hugens looked indignant. Field Marshal du Beck concluded—“who cantake over for the general to permit him personally to act as your tutor. GeneralHugens is, in fact, an excellent teacher, twice assigned to the War College.” GeneralHugens beamed.

Roberts—with troops of the Royal Guard at his command, with the Chief of theGeneral Staff to act as his personal tutor, and incidentally as a direct link with the topcommand of Festhold’s armed forces—Roberts, too, beamed cheerfully.“Wonderful,” he said. “I could ask for nothing better.”

It seemed to Roberts that—barely at the beginning of his assignment—he hadalready won. But, as they shook hands and exchanged pleasantries at the door,Roberts noted a vicious little smile on Duke Marius’ face.

The duke’s gaze slid away as Roberts looked directly at him—but the little smilestayed there. It appeared to be a smile of anticipation.



VII. Cleaning House

« ^ » As the door shut behind them, Roberts asked himself what would justify that smile.

Either Marius had already compromised the prince before Roberts had gotten here,or else Marius planned to do something before the troops took over from thepresent staff.

Roberts walked over to the locker, and discovered that he could move moreeasily. The leaden heaviness seemed to be very slowly passing away. Leaning againstthe locker was the plain businesslike sword, and Roberts now slid it from its sheath.The sword came out easily, the blade surprisingly light, the hilt so shaped that itseemed almost a part of his hand.

Roberts reached left-handedly for the handgun on the rack. He had scarcelyclosed his hand around it when the unlockable door across the room came open.Two burly men, wearing close black garments that fitted like a second skin, walkedin, ignored the threat of the two weapons, and strode purposefully toward the prince.

Roberts felt a sense of paralysis—an unspoken warning as to what would happenif he should defend himself. By an effort of will, he raised the handgun and pointedit. The burly pair didn’t hesitate. Roberts squeezed the trigger. The gun clicked.Roberts changed position, his right side forward, the swordpoint raised. The first of the two black-clothed figures reached up and closed his hand on the blade. The

second stepped to the side, reached out to grip the prince—Roberts reacted automatically, jerked back the sword, thrust at the closer of the

two, backed the slight remaining distance to the wall, turned slightly, and thrust at hisother assailant.

The sword moved like a weightless extension of his arm. The blade flashed. Theblack cloth reddened at the right shoulder of each man. The right hand of the firstassailant dripped blood.

Roberts, crowded into the narrow space between the wall and the front of the

locker, waited, the sword point raised. The two black-clothed figures stoodmotionless. The first glanced at his hand, red with blood where he had gripped thesword. The second made a hesitant gesture as if to bend forward and lunge … Theswordpoint moved. Roberts held it directly before the eyes of his assailant.

Outdoors, approaching, came the quiet rap of a drum. There was the tramp of feet, a called command—“Platoon Halt !”

The swordpoint with great delicacy and precision, was cutting the black fabric ina straight line across the chest of one of his assailants as Roberts sought to cut the

cloth but not the flesh. The prince’s two assailants began to edge backward.From the door came an impatient voice. “Come on in there, hurry it up! They’re









out here already!”

A third black-clad figure appeared in the doorway. His eyes widened. Robertsaimed the gun.

“Don’t move.”

The black-clad figure dove headlong out of the room. There was a hastyscramble, then the sound of running feet echoed in the hall. The two black-cladassailants in front of Roberts backed and whirled to run. The sword flashed asRoberts struck carefully at the backs of their legs. They gasped, staggered, and fell.

From the corridor came a yell, a thud, and the sound of many running feet.Roberts watched the door, the sword at his side, but ready. The doorway filledsuddenly with a huge, white-haired giant in dark-green uniform, with sergeant’sstripes and a loop of silver braid at the shoulder. “First Squad A to me! First Squad

A to me! Here’s the King and two stranglers!” The building shook.

The doorway was suddenly jammed with armed men, and Roberts noted withsurprise that each was white-haired, rough, athletic; their faces were grim as theystared at the pair on the floor.

In the doorway, the sergeant came to attention, and the men followed hisexample.

“At ease, men,” said Roberts, and the prince’s majestic voice projected the cheerRoberts felt on seeing these veterans. “If you will remove these uninvited guests, to

be held for questioning. But take care. Each of them is unarmed, hamstrung in theleft leg and cut in the right shoulder. But they may bite for all I know.”

The sergeant stared at him, then grinned and said, “Lord bless you, Sir, these arevowed assassins. They kill with their victim’s fear and their own hands, and they will never talk.” After a moment he added, “But we can try.” He glanced around, gavequick orders, and suddenly the room was empty. A powerfully built officer of perhaps sixty-five then looked into the room, snapped to attention, and brought hishand up in salute.

Roberts, without thinking, returned the salute with the sword, and at oncewondered if the Festholders saluted with a sword, if their sword salute was the sameas he had learned long ago. If not, what would the officer across the room think? Butthe officer appeared to notice nothing unusual.

“Lieutenant-Colonel Stran du Morgan, Your Majesty. I am yoursecond-in-command, and will handle all the routine of the Regiment, unless you wishotherwise. Argent Company is in the building, Company Or is digging in on the hall,and Cuivre Company is settling down amongst the bushes and trees outside. GeneralHugens said that you wanted real security, and be damned with appearances.”

Roberts himself had not the faintest idea of the significance of the terms “CuivreCompany‘, ”Company Or,” or ”Argent Company,” but he detected a faint flicker of



meaning that he was unable to grasp. This must be knowledge that Prince HaroldWilliam possessed—but again, Roberts could not acquire it.

“Fine,” he said, in the prince’s magnificent voice. “Colonel, there is anothermatter which concerns me.”

“Yes, Your Majesty?”

“The Princess Erena. There have been many untoward accidents in my family inrecent years, and I no longer believe they were accidental. Have you any knowledgeof the location of the Princess?”

Colonel du Morgan’s eyes narrowed slightly. “It is strange, sir, that you shouldask. The Princess returned only last night, amidst rumors that her ship had beenshadowed by some unknown vessel, possibly Stath.”

“She returned from where?”

“A visit to Tiamaz.”

“And she is now?”

“In an apartment adjoining that of the Regent, Duke Marius. He is her guardian,and—”

“I do not trust Duke Marius.”

The colonel blinked. “Does Your Majesty really think—”

“Drugged food preceded Duke Marius’ visit to me, poisoned insinuationsaccompanied it, and two assassins followed it. I do not trust the Duke. How is thePrincess guarded?”

“The Duke’s own men guard the apartment.”

“How numerous are they? And how well armed?”

“There are, I should think, possibly fifty of them. Ordinarily, a dozen aresufficient. But, for some reason, the Duke recently brought in more men. As for

weapons—” The colonel frowned—“I would say they are about as well armed asmost regular troops.”

Prince Harold William’s memory for the first time provided Roberts with a fewbits of information. The Royal Guard was made of men selected from the armedforces of all Festhold, and grouped by age into three companies. The youngest wentinto Cuivre Company, and those in their prime into Company Or. Argent Companywas made up of picked veterans of long service. Each company was maintainedoverstrength. The normal Festhold infantry company was made up of three platoons,each of which contained three sections of three squads each. But the Companies of

the Royal Guard were made up of four platoons, each of which contained foursections of four squads apiece. As the standard peacetime squad contained twelvemen, this meant that one platoon of the Royal Guard contained about two hundred



men.

Then one more bit of information came to Roberts. There should be one morecompany, Company Fer, equipped with heavy weapons. Roberts glanced at Coloneldu Morgan.

“Where is Company Fer?”

Du Morgan hesitated. “The Regent requested that it be used as a demonstrationunit—”

“And it is now far from here?”

“It entrained this morning for the run to Schnyvasserport, to go from there bywater to the training camp outside Haraldsburg.”

“Can Company Fer be brought back?”

“Yes, sir. If you so command, I will send the orders at once.”

“Good. Bring them back. And as soon as those orders are sent—”

“Yes, sir?”

“I will want to visit Princess Erena.”

VIII. Just a Friendly Visit

« ^ » The gate at the entrance of the Duke’s apartments was of iron, tipped with imitationspear points at a height of eight feet. Behind this hinged grille was a closed door of polished glass. Before the iron gate stood two armed guards, one of whom returneda little handset to its small roofed box atop a vertical black pipe to the right of thegate.

“Sorry, sir,” said the guard. “No one is to see Princess Erena. Her Highness isindisposed.”

Roberts looked the guard over carefully. The second guard looked onindifferently, cradling a short-barreled large-bored fusion gun.

Roberts spoke quietly, and Prince Harold William’s voice rendered what he saidas a quiet but unmistakable threat.

“Guard.”

The guard looked momentarily blank. “Sir?”









“I did not ask permission to see my sister.”

“I’m afraid I don’t—”

“I said, ‘I am here to see my sister’.”

“Sorry, sir,” said the guard promptly. “No one gets in without a special clearancein advance. Duke’s orders.”

“I see,” said Roberts.

The guard said, “No one’s allowed in. And no one’s allowed to loiter at the gate.Sorry, sir.” He gave a jerk of his head, signifying that the Prince should leave.

The Prince’s right hand, moving of its own accord, flashed to the sword at hisleft side, and closed on the hilt. The sword hissed from its sheath, flashed in thesunlight, and the point dropped to the guard’s throat.

Roberts barely had control of the sword hand as the point drew a drop of bloodfrom the suddenly pale guard. The Prince’s voice was clear and carrying: “Whenyou address a fighting man of Festhold, speak politely, Gambler.”

The second guard swung up his fusion gun.

Crack !

The line of light seemed to hang in the air for an instant, leading from the centerof the guard’s forehead back to one of the clumps of brush that dotted the rolling,

neatly clipped grasslands that gave seclusion to the elegant apartments. The guarddropped. The fusion gun clattered on the flagstoned walk.

Roberts said, and the Prince’s voice was courteous, “Guard, I am here to see mysister.”

“The Duke—”

Very slightly, the sword point quivered. The guard stood perfectly still.

“The Duke’s authority,” said Roberts carefully, “does not extend to controlling

arbitrarily the movements of the Royal Family—or, in fact, the movements of anyprivate citizen whatever. Even the King,” said Roberts pointedly, “cannot do that inpeacetime. If the Duke is holding my sister prisoner, it will be cause for his dismissalfrom office. As the Duke, therefore, has no authority to give the order, you have noauthority to carry it out. Open the gate!”

The guard, his expression dazed, took out a set of keys, unlocked the gate usingtwo separate keys in the gate’s two locks, and stepped back to let Roberts enter.Roberts stayed where he was. From the road leading to the apartments, came thesound of bootheels.

Roberts said, “Open the inner door.”



The guard hesitated, looking toward the road. “Who—”

Roberts said quietly, “Open the inner door .”

A magnificently uniformed captain, tall and powerfully built, wearing sword andpistol, appeared around the tall hedge that bordered the road to the left, and started

up the walk to the apartments. Following the captain came an equally handsome andpowerfully built lieutenant, and three sergeants in battle dress, armed to the teeth.Despite their size, they all moved lightly, with an athletic spring to their step. Theguard, perspiring, opened the inner door.

Roberts said to the guard, “You will kindly lead me to the apartment of thePrincess.”

“I must stay at the gate!”

“No necessity at all. My men will guard it.”

Behind the three sergeants came three open columns of men in camouflage battledress, heavily armed, weapons at the ready.

The guard swallowed, and turned. “This way.”

Roberts’ sword was still in his hand. He brought it up carefully so that the flat of the blade rested lightly against his shoulder. The Captain and the Lieutenant,observing that their Prince had his sword in hand, each drew their own swords. Thethree sergeants glanced around alertly.

The Duke’s guard, sweating profusely, opened the door of an elevator, andbowed slightly, for Roberts to enter.

Roberts said, “On what floor is the Princess’ apartment?”

“The sixth floor, Your—er—Your Highness.”

“Are there stairs?”

“It would be much quicker—”

Beside Roberts, the Captain said shortly, “ His Majesty asked you a question.”

The guard stiffened. “There are two sets of stairs. One in the front of the buildingand one in the back.”

“Where,” said Roberts, “are the entrances to these stairs?” The guard pointedout two corridors leading in opposite directions.

The Captain turned and raised his voice. “A Squad and follow-up, down thatcorridor to the north steps. Three men in at a time, watch for grenades, and secureeach floor both up and down to the first cross-corridor. B Squad and follow-up,

down that corridor to the south steps. Same procedure. When all floors are secureto the first cross-corridor, report in by handset. Let’s go!”



Roberts turned to the guard. “Is there also a set of service stairs?”

The guard stared at the door, where more men were coming in. He gave his heada little shake, and relaxed. “Duke Marius isn’t going to like this.”

Roberts said politely, “He should have obeyed the law. To hold a Princess of

Festhold prisoner is a serious offense.”

The Captain spoke sharply. “His Majesty asked you a question! One more delay,and I won’t answer for your life!”

For emphasis he reached out, gripped the guard by the front of his jacket, liftedhim bodily off the floor, and smashed him back against the wall.

“ Is there a set of service stairs?”

“Y-Yes. You get into them from the basement.”

Roberts said, “Why not this floor?”

“It’s—quicker—the other way.”

“Where’s the guardroom?”

The guard swallowed. The Captain glanced at Roberts.

Roberts said, “Of course, we want in no way to cause any difficulty here. But inthe event all the Duke’s guards should be as uncooperative as this one, we may haveto protect ourselves. Have C Squad secure those service stairs from this floor, thenwe’ll go up.”

“Sir, I don’t trust this elevator.”

“Neither do I.” Roberts glanced at the guard. “There’s no gravshaft?”

“No. The Duke likes his visitors a few at a time.”

Roberts glanced at the Captain. “I’m going to use it, because seconds maycount.” He nodded to the Lieutenant. “If you will accompany me—”

The lieutenant nodded obediently, and gestured to the guard. “Step in. And at thefirst sign of anything wrong, you will be forever beyond the Duke’s power to rewardyou.”

The guard stepped in, and gripped the controls. The elevator lifted, rosesmoothly, and slowed to a stop. A sharp voice spoke from a grille at the center of the ceiling. “No visitors on this floor. That’s Duke’s orders.” The guard perspired.

“This is Prince Harold William himself.” The guard’s voice took on a peculiarinflection. “I thought the Duke would want to see him.” There was a little pause.

“All right. Send him in.”



IX. Dear Brother

« ^

»

The elevator slid open, and Roberts found himself looking at two tough uniformedarmed guards and a faintly smiling sergeant, standing in a small, thickly carpeted,elegantly appointed room with hanging gold-colored drapes to either side of theelevator. The guard in the elevator with Roberts sucked in his breath.

“Quick ! They—”

There was a sudden brief indrawing of breath, a sound as of a loose armload of firewood dumped on the floor, and then the lieutenant was beside Roberts, absentlywiping his sword on the gold-colored drapes.

The two guards, at the door across the room, stood momentarily paralyzed. Thesergeant’s eyes widened and his face paled. Whatever scene had taken place behindRoberts had temporarily immobilized all three of the guards, and it was entirelypossible that if Roberts had seen it, he would be immobilized himself.

The lieutenant said shortly, “The Warlord of Festhold demands admittance to thechambers of his sister. Will you stand aside, or will you join your fellow in hell?”

Roberts spoke flatly, and Prince Harold William’s voice translated the ordinary

words into an iron command which rang in the air like a sentence of doom: “Openthat door .”

The tip of the lieutenant’s sword flicked out, and lightly pressed the sergeant’stunic. The guards stared at the sergeant for instructions. The sergeant, brow beadedwith sweat, nodded ever so slightly.

The guards flung open the door, and stood at attention. One of them,lance-corporal’s insignia on his sleeve, sucked in his breath and announced: “TheWarlord of Festhold!”

Behind Roberts, there was a solid thud , and another sound as of a load droppingto the floor. The lieutenant spoke in a low voice to the guards: “When he comes to,remind him that a bump on the head is only temporary. If any of you intrude, youwill have more permanent difficulties.”

The door shut. Roberts looked around. Directly in front of him was a longwhite-carpeted corridor, the woodwork painted gold and ivory, with a richlight-colored wallpaper depicting a hunting scene done in tones of silver and gray. Adoor to Roberts’ right was marked with a golden ducal coronet. There was nosound from behind this door. From the distance, down the hall, came a faint brief

high-pitched sound which instantly faded.

Roberts started down the corridor. The lieutenant strode fast, and caught up as









they rounded a corner to the right. Directly in front of them, back to the door, stooda tough-looking guard, a faint grin on his face. The lieutenant spoke.

“Open for the Warlord of Festhold!”

The guard blinked. Roberts tried the doorknob. The door was solidly locked.

From the other side, Erena screamed, a cry of defiance mingled with dread. Thelieutenant said sharply, “Guard! Can you open this?”

“It—it’s locked from inside.”

Roberts, half-crouched, raised and bent his right leg, and kicked hard with the flatof his boot at about six inches above the doorknob. The door shook in its frame.Roberts kicked again. There was a loud crack ! With the third blow, the door flewopen.

Duke Marius, his face totally blank, stared at them from a shambles of a room,where the furniture was overturned, the drapes half-torn from the windows, themattress thrown from the bed onto the floor—and Princess Erena, her face and barearms bruised, stood gripping a slender leg apparently broken from some overturnedpiece of furniture. Behind Roberts, there was a thud and a ripping of cloth.

Erena stared at her brother, and cried out, “Oh, thank God!”

Duke Marius made an abortive gesture, as if to draw some hidden weapon.Prince Harold William’s left hand went to his holster, withdrew the pistol, and had it

aimed before the regent could complete whatever he intended to do.

“So,” said Prince Harold William’s iron voice, “this is how the Regent of Festhold carries out his trust?”

The gun spoke once, twice, three times, four times—Duke Marius jerked like amarionette, and fell to the floor.

X. A Hitch Has Developed In Our Plans

« ^ » Prince Harold William was asleep, his lungs drawing in the deep calm breaths of therighteous and the just.

Vaughan Nathan Roberts was awake, trying despite a bad case of nerves to holdhis attention on a tiny, barely audible tone that he seemed to hear, then lose, thenhear again. It was a varying tone that almost sounded, now and then, like words,

occasionally the whistle of steam from a tea kettle, or the brief scrape of branchesagainst the wall outside the Prince’s room. Roberts listened closely, clinging mentally









to this varying tone as the murmur became clearer, and then out of the murmur camethe voice of Colonel Valentine Sanders, and Roberts’ chief in the Interstellar Patrolwas saying methodically:

“Roberts—do you hear me?—Come in, Roberts … We have your—”

“Right here,” murmured Roberts, pronouncing the words mentally, but notoperating the Prince’s vocal cords.

“Roberts?”

“Right here.”

“Good. Can you hear me clearly?”

“Yes.”

“Roberts—ah—how are things going?”“The Prince is asleep. I’m lying here in a cold sweat. Is that possible?”

“If you’re doing it, it’s possible.” The colonel cleared his throat, and the soundcame across with a peculiar self-conscious emphasis. “Ah— Roberts— ?”

“Sir?”

“How—ah—how—?”

Roberts decided that he would have to speak frankly. “Sir, this situation is fairly

confused. And if you don’t mind, I want to ask a few questions.”

“Go ahead.”

“Do you have Prince Harold William on your end.”

There was a brief pause. “I mean,” said Roberts, “his mind—hisconsciousness?”

“No,” said the colonel.

“I see. All right, what do you have on your end?”

“Your body, Roberts, is lying here in some sort of stasis. This is the first timewe’ve ever had anything like this. The only thing I can think of is that the Prince hasbeen reduced to a vegetable, and there was no—ah—no mental function—no

personality to come through. Wait a minute. What I’m trying to say is the complexelectromagnetic function the technicians speak of has put in no appearance on thisend; we therefore assume that it must have been destroyed, or reduced to so low alevel that we can’t detect it.”

“I see,” said Roberts tightly.

“How are things on your end, Roberts?”



“Prince Harold William this afternoon shot the regent in both shoulders and bothknees; and if I hadn’t—”

“Wait a minute, Roberts, keep the description clear. You mean, you, controllingthe Prince’s actions, shot the regent—”

“No,” said Roberts. “I mean what I said. This degenerate, drugged hulk of aroyal playboy has reflexes like chain lightning, and put four bullets into Duke Mariusbefore I had time to think. The next two bullets were for the duke’s right and lefteyes, but I managed to override that.”

There was a silence. Roberts became vaguely aware of the Prince’s calmpeaceful breathing, and went on. “Listen, when this technique is used on someoneheavily sedated against his will, what happens?”

“I think this is the first time we’ve ever run into it.”

“Well, if the Prince hasn’t shown up on your end, I think I know why. He’s stillhere.”

There was another little pause. “I see,” said the colonel.

“The impression I have,” said Roberts, “is that most of the time, I’m runningthings, but every now and then, things happen so fast I don’t know what’s takingplace. Moreover, I am not getting much cooperation from Harold William’smemory.”

“What ?”

“The Prince’s memory isn’t open to me. Occasionally, a few items of information come across, but not very often.”

“That’s not normal. The usual case is that the impressed personality becomesimmersed in the memory and details of the subject’s life.”

“Then this isn’t the usual case.”

Another silence developed, and Roberts broke it by saying, “This is quite a

handicap, if you see what I mean. I can control the Prince’s actions, unless hesuddenly decides to take over. But unfortunately, since I’m not in touch with hismemory, I don’t know what I’m doing. And there’s another question. What aboutthe Prince himself? His consciousness evidently is still here, on the spot. How doesall this strike him?”

“I don’t know. I’ll have to take this up with the experts.”

“There’s another point. Are these Festholders particularly bloodthirsty?”

“No—Wait a minute. You have to remember, Roberts, that they’re in a very

exposed position, and have been fighting the Stath for a long time. The Stath are notnice adversaries.”



“I see.”

“The Festholders loathe traitors, and are merciless with them. Whoever breakshis word on Festhold gets very short shrift.”

Roberts considered the events of the day, and said, “Well, that fits. All right, I’ll

tell you what happened.” Carefully, he described what had taken place, in minutedetail. At the end, the colonel said, “Roberts—were you in charge most of the time,or—”

“I was. Why?”

“It seems to me things have moved pretty fast.”

“The regent was closing in to finally discredit the Prince.”

“H’m. Yes, that’s true.”

“There wasn’t much choice.”

“All right. Where is the regent now?”

“On a cot, done up in bandages, in a dressing station run by the Royal Guard.”

“And Princess Erena?”

“With her two sisters, Catherine and Eloise. She’s in an apartment in thisbuilding, heavily guarded.”

“Good. Now, about Erena—you have to be careful—”

“The Prince,” said Roberts drily, “is a lot more protective of the two youngersisters. Erena was his older sister, and when they’re face-to-face, they get along likecats and dogs.”

“Well, that’s good. That—”

“Isn’t it?” said Roberts drily. “Now, sir—what are we going to do about thismess? I have the impression that as the drug they’ve been using on the Prince wearsoff, I’m going to have more and more trouble.”

“Roberts, we could break contact, and then try again. But I hesitate to suggest it,because the second try might fail entirely. You’ve done all right, so far—”

“The situation is getting more complicated by the minute.”

“Just do your best, and we’ll move up reinforcements, just in case. Now, wedon’t claim to understand it, but you’re going to need sleep, or your control willsuffer.”

“Okay,” said Roberts. “As long as you see the situation here.”

“I see it,” said the colonel. “It represents an unexpected hitch in the plans, but Ithink we can get around it.”



The colonel’s voice faded, and there was only a varying tone that itself dwindled.Then there was the scrape of branches against the wall, and Roberts knocked thepillow into a more comfortable shape, and fell asleep.

He seemed scarcely to have rested his head against the pillow when the room was

suddenly filled with light, and an urgent voice was speaking: “You Majesty—DukeMarius has escaped!”

XI. How To Kill Kings With Pictures

« ^ »

Roberts sat up, noting the early morning sun that lit the silvery dew on the lawnoutside. For the first time, he had a sense of bodily well being. The drugged sense of having to force each motion was gone.

“Impossible,” said Roberts, “because the Regent was not a prisoner here. Ask Colonel du Morgan to come to me as soon as is convenient for him.”

Roberts got up, showered briskly, and briefly studied the Prince’s physique inthe bathroom mirror. The Festhold heir presented an odd effect of well-developedmuscles under a pasty complexion and a thin layer of fat. His face presented the

same peculiar effect of strong bone structure and formidable character—coupledwith the suggestion of a sallow dissolute look. If the Prince’ faint look of dissipationresulted from prolonged sabotage by Duke Marius, there obviously had been someforce resisting this dissipation.

Roberts toweled briskly, dressed, and noted with approval the new lock on theroom’s hall door. He was just clasping the leather belt that held the sword whenthere was a knock at the door. Roberts opened the door.

“Ah, come in, Colonel!”

Colonel du Morgan, his face grave, his air faintly embarrassed, stepped inside. “Iam afraid the Regent left us during the night.”

The Prince’s voice said, “I regret that I didn’t kill him.”

The colonel looked surprised, but nodded. “You would have been fully justified.”

Roberts, who was more surprised than the colonel to hear the Prince’s comment,said carefully, “To have killed him would have been justified, but we may betterbring his whole treasonous plan, and his accomplices, into the open with the Regent

alive but crippled.”

The colonel nodded grimly. “He is, at least, crippled. Your Majesty is a deadly









and extremely fast shot.”

The Prince’s voice replied on its own, “Long practice, Colonel. Since I was oldenough to think, I have aimed to be a fighting man and a leader of fighting men, andhave trained to acquire their skills.”

The Colonel again looked surprised, and an expression of wonder crossed hisface. The Prince spoke again, and Roberts listened, seeing no point in trying tointervene.

“Duke Marius,” said the Prince, “has well deserved to be crippled. With deepcunning, while in the guise of my guardian, he tried to cripple me.”

The words seemed to smolder in the air after they were spoken, and the Colonelnodded and sighed. “I am afraid, Your Majesty, that he has finally succeeded.”

“What do you mean?”

Colonel du Morgan held out, face down, a small packet of photographs. ThePrince reached out, took them, and turned them over. The sense of pain wasinstantaneous, as severe as the sudden pain of a sensitive tooth exposed to heat orcold.

The top picture was damning, a pose of the Prince, the tutor, and the maid whohad brought the drugged food. The room seemed to spin around Roberts, whoimmediately sucked in a sharp breath, and as the grip of the Prince’s hand loosened,Roberts tightened it again.

“Well, well,” said Roberts, and the Prince’s voice translated the words into asound of grim satisfaction. “So, we have forced him to reveal his hand at last!”

The colonel looked blank. “Sir?”

Roberts looked the Colonel in the eye. “Can you conceive, Colonel, of thedamage these would have done if released just before the Lords’ Chamber? Wouldthey grant the crown to anyone so debased as this?”

The Colonel looked totally blank. “I—No. But—”

Roberts forced the fingers of the Prince to steadily and carefully leaf through thedamning photographs one-by-one. Roberts had thought the first one might be theworst, but the Colonel had apparently tried to spare his feelings. What followed wasindescribable. Roberts looked up, with a sensation of having wallowed in garbage.

“What you have been trying to tell me, Colonel, is that Duke Marius was freed by

my own men?”

The colonel was watching him with a look of wonder. With a start, he answered.“Yes, Sir.”

“Assemble the officers and non-commissioned officers in the courtyard. Thosewho can be spared from guard duty. There must be no laxness at all, despite this



very clever move. Where is Company Fer?”

“At this moment, they are detraining for the march here.”

“Nothing must happen to prevent their reaching here. Check on them, and havethose officers and non-coms in the courtyard as soon as possible. Let me know

when they are there.”

The colonel straightened. “Yes, Sir.”

The ranks were stiff, and the faces expressionless as Roberts strode with slowand careful step past them, his tread echoing from the walls that surrounded thecourtyard with its fountain and its banks of flowers. Roberts halted near the fountain,turned, looked at the hard faces briefly, and spoke. The Prince’s voice, calm andcool, said the words.

“At ease, men.”

In front of him, their faces expressionless, the officers and thenon-commissioned officers of the Royal Guard relaxed, but their faces remainedcold.

“A few minutes ago,” said Roberts, and the Prince’s magnificent voice spokewith grim satisfaction, “Colonel du Morgan gave me the most pleasant news I havehad in some years.

“Colonel du Morgan told me that the Duke Marius had been aided to escape bymy own men—” There was a low angry murmur, which Roberts ignored—“and thatby some coincidence, damning photographs, supposedly of the future Warlord of Festhold, had been circulated amongst the Royal Guard. Pictures,” said Roberts,and the Prince’s voice translated his scorn, “like these which Colonel du Morgangave to me.”

Roberts looked directly at the ranked officers and non-commissioned officers,and saw their puzzled but stubborn look. He spoke with careful emphasis.

“Gentlemen, I will not waste our time by loudly denying what is set forth in thesepictures. That they may be clever fakes is obvious. But it was only yesterdaymorning that General Hugens and Field Marshal du Beck confirmed for me that therewere minute capsules—apparently of drugs—in a glass of milk brought to me by theservants of this same Duke Marius. Who knows what depravity may be arranged fora man under the influence of secretly administered drugs? But is the man then guilty?Or is he guilty who administered the drugs?

“I know this: I have no memory of any such incidents as shown on thesephotographs. But I wonder not only at these scenes, but at the mind and aims of the

person who would record them. Is there any of us so free of blame that he couldafford to have all the incidents of his life freely revealed? But fortunately, there is no



one hiding there to record the incidents. When there is someone hiding there, why ishe hiding there?”

Across from Roberts, the Guards officers and noncoms were frowning inthought. But, Roberts noticed, one or two of them glanced covertly at something

held in their hands, and their expressions hardened.Roberts could talk, but the thought was clear in his mind that the same man

cannot be the object of deep contempt and be the King, both at the same time.Again, Roberts could feel the pain of the Prince. But Roberts paid no attention.

“So,” he said, “while I remember no such incidents, and while all this trash maybe completely faked, nevertheless I wonder at the aims of whoever distributed it.And it was this, gentlemen, which gave me great pleasure.”

He had their attention now. He could see it in the alert faces, in the eyes turned

toward him or staring judiciously at the wall opposite. Roberts lowered his voice,and the words came out with great intensity.

“How many of my line have died of strange ‘accidents’? Where is my father, theKing? Where are my brothers? Why am I the last of the line? And why am I, the last

of the line, to be branded with this depravity?

“He who would destroy a royal family, root and branch, and take the throne forhimself, must not only kill its members, but must turn its followers against it. Howbetter to do that than by taking the last surviving heir, when supposedly too young to

defend himself, and either sinking him in the foulest sin, or creating that appearance?

“What the Duke did not know was that his drugs would be found, at that worstof all times when Field Marshal du Beck could confirm it for himself, and carry outmy request to replace the Duke’s guards with my own men.

“Yet this Regent did not stop there. Very plausibly, Company Fer was detachedfrom the Royal Guard. Quickly, two assassins turned up here. Next, an attempt wasmade against Princess Erena, by this selfsame Duke Marius.”

From the group of officers, the Lieutenant of the day before spoke in a clear levelvoice: “I saw that. And the King instantly drew left-handed, and shot him four timescleanly while the Duke grabbed for his hidden gun.”

There was a murmur. The murmur went on, and suddenly there was a laugh, andRoberts could feel the change in the atmosphere. To these warriors, Duke Mariuswas suddenly absurd.

Roberts spoke, and the Prince’s voice contained a trace of grim humor: “So,after the drugs, the assassins, the detachment of Company Fer, and the attempt

against a Princess of Festhold by this Regent, I could not help but wonder, ‘Whatnext?’ He was helpless, shot in both shoulders and knees, but might have new andundreamed-of treacheries already in motion. It was then that Colonel du Morgan



showed me this little handful of pictures, and that much was clear.

“Marius could gain the kingdom only by stopping me first. I must, therefore, faileither to draw the sword from the crystal, or to gain the support of the nobles. Eitherone would do the job. Prudence would suggest that he try to do both. Whether he

has found some way to influence the crystal—or to somehow counterfeit theresult—I cannot claim to know. But he has been forced to reveal too soon his plan

to influence the nobles.

“This little pack of pictures, gentlemen, was not meant for you. He couldn’t evenknow you would be here. These pictures originally had another purpose: To soshock and antagonize the nobility that the last male member of the royal family wouldbecome the lowest and most despised of all the nobles, while the next choice

necessarily fell to Marius.”

The silence in the courtyard when Roberts stopped speaking was broken by thesudden sound of ripping pictures. The leaders of the Royal Guard were methodicallytearing the damning photographs to bits. As Roberts watched, they passed the bitsfrom hand to hand, and the officers at the head of the ranks made a little pile, andstruck a light to it.

In the quiet, the faint tramp of feet could heard, and for an instant Robertsthought of Company Fer. But it was too soon for that.

“Open,” said a voice, small but clearly audible, “ in the name of the Regent !”

“The traitor’s troops,” said Roberts. “Quick! Back to your men!”The courtyard emptied in a flash. There was a blast of whistles, the shout of

commands. On the flagstones, the flame flickered, consuming the torn photographsas Roberts ran past into the building.

XII. The Guard Does Not Surrender« ^ »

Colonel du Morgan blocked the entrance, shouting to Roberts, “Back, YourMajesty! They’re inside the gate!”

The sword was in the Prince’s hand before Roberts could decide what to do.The Prince was past du Morgan, and threw open the front doors of the building.One quick glance showed the Royal Guard in disarray, officers, and noncomsshouting at sullen men. On the walk regular Festhold infantry, glancing uneasily

around, backed up an officer in general’s uniform arguing vehemently with theLieutenant who had accompanied Roberts the day before. Their voices were plainlyto be heard.









The general shouted, “It is the Regent’s order! This has the force of RoyalCommand!”

“The Regent,” snarled the Lieutenant, “is a traitor and a murderer! With my owneyes I saw this famous Regent attack Princess Erena! I saw this Regent turn in the

presence of the King, and grab for a concealed weapon! I saw the King draw andstrike this same Regent to the earth with four blows before this imitation warlordcould get his hand on a weapon. Now you tell me that the Royal Guard will standaside and hand the true Warlord of Festhold over to this toothless wonder, this lyingpoisonous murdering hypocritical simulacrum of a Regent built up out of moldydung? I say you are badly mistaken, general! I say you had better get your troopsout of here before we throw them out!”

The general said shortly, “I have my orders! You will obey, Lieutenant, or facethe consequences!”

“Be damned with the consequences!”

The Lieutenant whipped out his sword. The General clamped a whistle betweenhis teeth. Prince Harold William, obviously ready for a fight, evidently could findnothing to say in this impasse. Roberts at once raised the Prince’s voice.

“One moment, gentlemen!”

The General shouted, “There he is! You are under arrest for attempted regicide!”

“By whose order?”

“By command of Duke Marius Romeigne, Regent of Festhold, who stands in theplace of the Ruler and Warlord, King and Emperor of Festhold! By that authority,and in that name, the Regent hereby places you, Harold William, under arrest !Throw down your arms, and go humbly to judgment!”

Roberts spoke politely. “Are we at war?”

“WHAT?”

“Is the Kingdom of Festhold at war?”

The General for an instant looked blank. Then his face suffused with rage. “ Drag

that dog to me in chains!”

The Lieutenant pivoted on his right heel. His left fist smashed the General in theface, throwing him back into the arms of the men behind him. Blood welled from theGeneral’s nose and mouth.

Roberts spoke, and the Prince’s voice was clear, calm, and carrying: “In time of peace, no one, neither King nor Regent, can arbitrarily arrest another. The Regenthas no right to order anyone to arrest me. But I have every right to defend myself from unlawful arrest. And I will do it .”

This was all Roberts had intended to say. The General dizzily staring at him,



seemed to have comprehended the point. The Lieutenant, sword in one hand andgun in the other, was a visible demonstration that the Prince would not fight alone.

But now, from well back in the ranks before them came a loud voice, freelyspeaking unspeakable slurs, damning Harold William by all the names that could be

applied to anyone about whom such pictures could be circulated as had been madeof the Prince.

And suddenly the Prince’s voice was answering, the pain evident in his voice, butsomething else evident under the pain: “Then Marius has won, and I may never beKing! But you will learn now who is the Warlord of Festhold! Get back beyond thatgate!”

The regular troops, confused, simply stared as Harold William advanced. TheRoyal Guard, seeing their leader advance alone and single-handed against suchnumbers, abruptly comprehended what their officers had been trying to tellthem—the pictures could not sum up the Prince! And in that case, it was a moralcertainty that the Regent was a traitor.

Roberts heard the shout, but could no more influence the actions of HaroldWilliam than he could have as a spectator. The Prince’s sword flashed out, the flatof the blade striking the side of the General’s head.

“Get these men out of here before I kill them, and you with them!”

From somewhere in the rear of the Regent’s troops came a shout: “Forward! In

the name of the Regent. Forward !”A fusillade of shots smashed windows and powdered brickwork across the face

of the building. A fusion beam lanced out and struck the building. There was ashower of white-hot glass and exploding brickwork.

Someone yelled, “Show the Prince what blood looks like!” A grenade archedforward and blew up over the heads of the Royal Guard. From well behind thetroops of the Regent came another shout: “Death to the Royal Coward!”

The General, staring at the Prince’s expression, suddenly reached for his gun.

Harold William went berserk.

Roberts, like a passive spectator at a horror show, could only watch as thePrince waded into a chaos of guns, flashes, spurting blood and shattered bone.Explosions deafened him, and a flaming bar of white heat seared his left side. Aneruption of flame burst in his face. Time passed in heavy shocks and boiling smoke.The ground jumped underfoot. Pain incarnate knit through the lower left side of hischest. Then clever staring faces briefly appeared before him, hands were flung up,and the faces dissolved into the bloody chaos that ringed the Prince of Festhold.

A familiar voice shouted urgently. The Prince, dragging in great breaths of reekingair, turned to see Colonel du Morgan.



“Take cover, Sir! We’ve cleared them back—but they’re sending tanks!” ThePrince turned, and Roberts was presented with the sight of a hideous shambles of broken weapons and shattered bodies.

From the distance came a clank and roar of tanks, and the Prince turned to face

the tanks, wide and low, looming through the smoke. The Prince’s thought was plainto Roberts: “I will never back nor bow to any of these dogs.”

With a violent effort, Roberts got momentary control of the Prince’s limbs, anddove head-first into a nearby crater.

Roberts hit the stony dirt in an explosion of pain from his left side. Now that thePrince was no longer concentrating on killing enemies, Roberts became aware thathis whole left side seemed to be on fire, and his chest felt as though iron hooks wereimbedded in it. A wave of weakness and weariness swept over him. He pressed hishead into the damp stony dirt.

There was a heavy blast that jarred the earth under him. Then there was a clank that sounded almost over his head. The blast and roar died away. Roberts openedhis eyes to see nothing but blackness, then a brilliant white light that faded away. Itcame to Roberts that he had passed out—must, in fact, have slept, and now it wasnight.

A loudspeaker roared: “Guard!”

There was an answering, more distant voice, and Roberts recognized Colonel duMorgan: “We’re listening, Traitor.”

“Yield !”

“Never. God save King Harold!”

“The Coward Prince is dead!”

Colonel du Morgan laughed. “The Warlord may be dead or alive, but if he was acoward, you are less than rotten wood.”

“Yield! Your leader, whatever you call him, is dead! And you can’t withstand ourarmor forever!”

“The Guard may die, Traitor. But only Harold William may command us to laydown our arms!”

Roberts, lying motionless in the crater, sensed that the Prince was conscious.Roberts could detect the Prince’s wonder at Colonel du Morgan’s words. It dawnedon Roberts that the Prince had expected no such support. Roberts became awarethat the heir to Festhold’s throne was now dominated by some powerful emotion.Roberts could feel the quicker respiration, could sense the increased bloodpressure—but he did not know what the emotion was.



Just above, the loudspeaker roared again: “We attack in four hours! You willnever outlast it! Surrender, or—”

Roberts’ whole left side burst into one fiery agony. His chest felt as if stitchedtogether with huge and rusty staples. The Prince rushed up the bank in the darkness,

swung the sword like an axe.The loudspeaker was roaring: “—we will pound you into—”

The sword struck with a jar that traveled up his arm. Roberts was standingupright on some sort of slanting plate that apparently covered one of the tank’stracks. The abrupt silence told him that the Prince must have just cut the wire to theloudspeaker.

Roberts, unable to see a thing, wondered that the Prince stood motionless,waiting. Then from far away, a sound reached his ear, a low distant whine. Through

the pain of burns and untreated wounds, Roberts could sense the Prince intentlylistening. Suddenly, a thought came through to Roberts: “That whine is an antigravtransport unit, such as Fer Company uses for the automatic artillery. Could it be?”

Roberts, inescapably aware of the Prince’s wounds, wondered at this continuingconcentration on the fight. Was Harold William that tough?

“Ah, the hatch.”

The faint grating noise came through to Roberts a moment later, followed by amurmur: “Put that light out! You want to be blown to hell? Now—careful—wire

feels all right, so far.”

“Maybe the whole damn speaker fell off. There was some kind of thud.”

“ I didn’t feel any thud.”

“Well, I did.”

A third voice murmured, “Keep your voices down. Hst ! What’s that?”

Across the cratered and invisible landscape came the sound of a signal whistle.

“Funny. That’s practically right on top of the Guards!”

“They aren’t firing.”

“No.”

“Listen!”

A brief alternation of silvery liquid notes on some sort of trumpet reached acrossthe field, to be answered instantly by another, from a slightly different direction.

“That’s the royalhorn!”“ Both of them were royalhorns!”



“What the hell! It’s reinforcements, then!”

“Back this thing up! We’ve got to get out of here.”

The prince spoke, his voice silky and menacing. “One moment, gentlemen. I amthe Warlord. And if you move a finger, you are dead.”

There was a tense silence, broken only by the faint but steadily approachingwhine from the distance. The Prince’s voice was calm. “I do not ask that you yield .I command that you return this instant to your true allegiance.” Roberts could hear aragged indrawn breath.

“If,” said the Prince, “you wish to live and obey me, say so now!”

“Yes,” came a shaking voice. Two other voices trod on the heels of the first.“Yes!” “Yes, Sir !”

“How many of you are there here? This is an XS12 with a normal crew of five.Are the others inside?”

“No, Sir. We’re all there is. We’re running with a bare crew.”

“Why?”

“To get maximum force on the line, the Regent put in the spares at thebeginning.”

“I see. All right, fix that loudspeaker.”

“Ah—Sir, every minute here is dangerous. They’re probably—”

The Prince’s voice was flat. “I said, fix that wire.” There was a brief pause. Histone became humorous. “We might as well die now, as some other time, eh?” Forsome reason, the men all laughed.

“Here,” said one of them. “The wire’s all right to here. And—wait!— Here weare. We’ll have to splice.” There was a tense silence, and the blast of a whistle fromthe distance.

“All right,” said one of the men.

The Prince said, “Can you hand up the microphone to me?”

“Yes, Sir.”

“All of you, get inside, and hand it up.”

There was a scrape of boots slipping on metal, then the Prince reached out hishand, and Roberts felt the fingers close on something round and ridged—a handle of some kind. The Prince raised it to his lips. His voice boomed out in the quiet.

“Colonel du Morgan!”

There was a bare moment’s hesitation. “Sir ?” The voice expressed shock.



The Prince said quietly, “The burn is from a flame gun—I suppose a Mark X.Then I think I ran into two or three solid shots from an explosive whip. I think theywent through, but I’m not sure. The pain of the burn is intense, and continuous. Theshot is particularly bad when I breathe.”

The doctor said, “Nurse, a syringe—”The Prince interrupted, and his voice was irritable. “No anesthetic. I am telling

you this simply to explain what happened.” He glanced at du Morgan. “Colonel.”

Colonel du Morgan stiffened. “Yes, Sir?”

“There is to be no amputation. Not so much as a finger or a toe. If I die of this,that is unfortunate; but it is honorable, and I will take the risk. If there should be anamputation, contrary to my will, I will have the head of the doctor who carried it out.See that this is clearly understood. Now, while the doctor carries out his

examination, get me a position map.”

“Yes, sir.” The Colonel turned and went out.

The Prince looked at the doctor. “How bad does this seem? Be truthful.”

The doctor said, “I don’t see how—” He paused and began again. “It is veryunusual to see anyone in such condition on his feet.”

“Since I have not yet killed the traitor, I must remain on my feet. Is there anythingyou can do to keep down infection?”

The doctor approached, and very cautiously examined the Prince’s left side.Next, he studied the Prince’s chest, gingerly lifting away layers of clothing.“Fortunately, the slugs went clean through. But—in all honesty—you should be inthe restitution baths.”

The door opened, and the Colonel came in with a captain and two sergeants,carrying a large map on a stand. The map bore little symbols in red and green.

“Ah,” said the Prince. “Good.” He walked over. “How accurate is this?”

“As of now,” said the Colonel, “I believe it is substantially correct. We sent updrones at dusk, and have heard little movement from them since then.”

The Prince touched his finger to a small purple oval well back on the map. “Arewe sure the Traitor is here?”

“He was seen there yesterday afternoon. A special medical unit is attached tohim.”

“Curious that he is here, where he could conceivably be wounded.”

“What regular leader of troops can he trust with such a task as this? He has to behere.”



The Prince nodded, and leaned forward. On the map, the positions of the littlesymbols resembled a circle within a larger semicircle of enemy troops, with a stilllarger oblong coming down the road from the north, and the little purple oval on thefar side of the semicircle from the circle that showed the position of the RoyalGuard. The road came down from the top of the map, passed through the semicircle

to the north, passed through the circle representing the Guard, and bent off towardthe southeast. The Prince straightened.

“It is true that they are not yet across the road to the southeast?”

“They were, but Company Fer passed that way.”

“And this juggernaut coming down the road from the north?”

“The regent’s reinforcements. Once they get here, we will be in a bad way.”

The Prince glanced at the measure showing the scale of the map. He looked at theroad, then back at the purple oval on the far side of the semicircle and distinctly tothe east of the reinforcements on the road.

“To wait for the reinforcements to arrive,” said the Prince, “would be meresuicide. To move cross-country to the southwest would be to flee, with no hope of victory. We might attack the center of this half-ring of disloyal troops, but thatwould warn the Traitor, and his reinforcements are nearby on the road. What hour isit?”

“A little before one, Sir.”

The Prince considered the map. “Suppose we move out, very quietly, along theroad to the southeast? At best, they may not know we are gone. At worst, they willoverhear us. But if they overhear us, what will they think?”

“That we are in retreat.”

“The troops at the end of this semicircle were roughly handled?”

The Colonel smiled. “Company Fer was not gentle with them.”

“Then they should be tired, and not eager to intervene. If we are in retreat, whatwill they care?”

“It is impossible to be sure,” said the colonel, “but I would expect them to donothing.”

“Now, suppose that we move southeast along the road until we are well past theend of their line, and then swing north, across country. By dawn, the Traitor, if he isstill where this map shows him to be, will have his half-ring of besieging troops tothe southwest, his host of reinforcements to the west—and us to the east .”

The Prince traced the movement on the map with his forefinger, and there was alow involuntary murmur from the captain and the two sergeants.



The Colonel said, “If we could get there by dawn—”

The Prince nodded. “Then we could attack with the sun behind us, shining intheir eyes. And if the reinforcements should be called in, they will be equallyblinded.”

“We will do it! But Your Majesty must remain here, to be treated—”

“No treatment will do me any good until we end this traitor. Let us waste no time.We have to be there before this situation changes.”

XIII. The Regent’s Unlucky Day

« ^ » Roberts, aware of a ceaseless searing agony, and a sense that to breathe was to dragmassive hooks through his chest, saw the dawn through eyes that swam with fatigueand poisons pumped through his system from the wounds and burns. The Prince,who must be aware of the same endless pain and fatigue, merely murmured,“There—a little to the south—”

Roberts caught the brief flash in the almost level rays of the sun, that lit brightlythe flat green ground with its occasional clumps of trees.

Colonel du Morgan said, “Yes, I believe—it is! That is the window of aheadquarters trailer!” The Colonel handed him the field glasses. A few moments of careful examination showed a small complex of low sand-colored buildings, with aflagpole in the center.

“We may be mistaken.” said the Prince. “However, turn the column by platoons,and we will see what we catch in the net.”

The Colonel passed his orders back, and the men spread out, and then the RoyalGuard was a thin scattering of men in camouflage suits who blended into thescenery. A low whine from the rear told of Fer Company’s transportation.

Ahead of them, a little speck rose jerkily above one the low brown shapes. ThePrince raised the binoculars. It was a flag, going up the pole in the center of the littlecluster of temporary buildings. The flag was of dark-blue edged in purple, with agolden circlet in the center. For an instant, the flag stood out almost straight, andRoberts could see that the circlet was a coronet.

“Duke Marius’ own flag,” growled the Prince, “with a royal edging. Ah, if only heis there!”

The low buildings very gradually loomed larger. The sides of trees and shrubstoward them were lit brightly in the rising sun. Ahead, a voice shouted warningly:









“Who goes! Halt ! By command of the Regent!”

A nearer, louder voice answered, “Isn’t this General du Fenn’s headquarters?”

“It is the Headquarters of the Regent himself!”

“What. The Regent ? Is he there?”

“He is!”

The Prince growled, “Sound the attack.”

The Colonel turned, and a moment later a silvery note sounded, rose abruptlyhigher, and repeated again and again. The Prince sprang atop the captured tank as ittrundled up from the rear. To either side, men were running forward in long, wellspread-out lines. Behind them, the low whine rose to a howl.

The sand-colored buildings were close now. The guards stared, saw thecourtyard suddenly thick with enemies, and threw down their weapons. The Princedropped from the back of the tank, walked toward the largest of the buildings, as hismen appeared everywhere, and threw open the door.

A white-coated officer spoke angrily. “Out! You can’t come in here!”

The Prince stepped in, sword in one hand, gun in the other. “Where is Marius?”

The officer looked blank. “I—Who—?”

The Prince’s voice had its usual effect. “I am the Warlord. Where is the Regent?”

“I—he—through that door, Sir.”

“Lead the way.”

The terrified officer pushed open the door, and voices were heard in calmdiscussion. “Toward noon?” said the Regent’s voice.

“Yes, Sir. The reinforcements will be in position then. The rebels will be wipedout.”

“Excellent … yes, Doctor?”

The trembling doctor stepped aside, and the Prince walked in, closely followedby armed men. The Regent, heavily bandaged, was sitting up in bed. His eyeswidened. The Prince’s voice was quiet, but it spread out through the room, and leftno doubt that what it said was final.

“You may surrender, Marius, in which case you may live, for the time. Or youmay choose to not surrender, and I will shoot you through the head.”

The Regent averted his eyes, and drew a slow breath. He said bitterly, “So I am

surrounded? By what ?”

The Prince, watching closely, didn’t answer, and Colonel du Morgan said, “By



the Royal Guard.”

“By an element—what, a section?—of the Royal Guards.”

Beside the Regent’s bed, the officer in general’s uniform who had been talking tothe Regent spoke sharply, “It could hardly be even that. More likely a squad.

Nothing more could slip through the lines. Guard !”

Several more of the Prince’s soldiers answered this invitation, and came in. Morefollowed. The room grew crowded. The general stared, and abruptly turned away.

The Prince said quietly, “What have you decided, Marius?”

The Regent slowly shut his eyes. “I surrender.”

XIV. A Job Well Done

« ^ » The agony of being lowered into the tank was as nothing compared with the slow,cautious removal of the charred cloth. But this was part of the Festhold process of treating severe burns, and there was nothing Roberts could do to escape it. Nothing,that is, until the Prince, exhausted, passed out, and Roberts instantly did the same.

Roberts could feel himself spin into blackness, but much too soon he could feelhimself again returning to consciousness. He fought to prevent it, failed, and becameaware that he was lying between clean sheets.

He waited for the pain, but felt only a sense of calm rested well-being. Puzzled,he opened his eyes. He found himself looking at a white ceiling, in a dimly lit roomwith blank white walls.

Roberts sat up, felt his side, and then noticed something. There was a differentbodily tone, a different feel, a something different—familiar yet strange. Roberts got

out of bed, jerked open a door thinking it would lead into a corridor, and foundhimself in a small bathroom. A glance in a mirror showed him himself—not PrinceHarold William.

Roberts stood frowning for an instant, uncertain whether he was dreaming now,had been dreaming before, was out of his head, or was wide-awake and in his rightsenses. Back in the small room he had come from, there was the brief crackle of awall communicator. The voice of Colonel Valentine Sanders reached him.

“ Roberts?”

Roberts made the mental adjustment from Prince to captain in the InterstellarPatrol.









“Here, sir.”

“When did you get back?”

“A few minutes ago. Is this how it usually works?”

“No. How do you feel?”

“Unnatural. In a dream.”

“Stay right there. Turn on all the lights, and move around. I’ll be right with you.”

Roberts wandered around the two small rooms, and snapped on all the lights.This helped some, but he still seemed to be moving in a dream. The door from thecorridor opened, and Colonel Valentine Sanders, lean and tough, his hairclose-cropped, stepped in. His voice sounded relieved.

“How do you feel now?”“Unreal.”

“M’m.” The colonel glanced around the bare room with its blank walls and whitecot. “I feel a little unnatural in here myself.” His voice echoed faintly. “Can you walk all right?”

“I’ve been able to so far.”

“Let’s go down the hall to my office. I never did care for inside jobs, and thisone is even more peculiar than the usual.”

The colonel opened the door, and led the way down the corridor. Robertsfollowed, still with the impression that he was dreaming. The colonel opened a doormarked, “Chief, O-Branch,” and stepped back to let Roberts precede him. Thecolonel shut the door, pulled out a chair for Roberts, went around behind the desk,and sat back.

“What happened since the last time you reported in?”

Roberts, in careful detail, described everything that had happened since he had

been awakened with the words, “Your Majesty, Duke Marius has escaped.” He toldof the pictures, the attempt to arrest him, the battle, and the surrender of the Regent.

The colonel, increasingly wide-eyed, listened intently. At the end, he sat up,frowned, and very carefully sat back again.

“Where the devil does this leave us?”

Roberts shook his head. “I haven’t the faintest idea.”

The colonel frowned, and sat unmoving. Finally, he cleared his throat.

“What is your reaction to this prince?”

“Harold William?”



“Yes.”

“Every time he was attacked morally, he folded up and I had to take over. Thenthey attacked him physically, and there was no stopping him.”

The colonel sounded exasperated. “But what does that mean?”

Roberts thought it over. “It seems to me that he has been very cleverly drugged,in such a way as to make him detest his own reactions. He has no confidence inhimself—he is ashamed of himself—morally.”

“That doesn’t fit with the rest of his actions.”

“When I first got there, his room was a shambles, he was almost out on his feet,his servants or subordinates treated him with an insulting familiarity, the Regent dealtwith him as if he were a nonentity—but in the midst of this ruin, there was a rack of well-oiled weapons. Even when he is to all intents and purposes unconscious, hisreflexes are such that the weapons are like extensions of his limbs. When he decidesto do something, his motions with weapons are like lightning. It seems to me that canonly follow from hereditary aptitude and long training. In fact, he said to the officerwho is second-in-command of the Royal Guard, that since he was old enough tothink he had ‘aimed to be a fighting man,’ and had trained to acquire the necessaryskills.”

The colonel sat back, frowning. “The weapons you speak of were right there, inhis room?”

“Yes.”

“How fast did he seem to recover from the drugs?”

“Very fast.”

“By your description of his actions, he sounds almost superhuman.”

“Either that, or he had almost superhuman motivation—to nail the Regent.”

“All right, now let’s think this thing through. Suppose you hadn’t been there.

Would he have done as well?”Roberts considered the question. “He would have folded up any number of

times. First, he would have used this drug, ‘Twist’—whatever that is. I don’t know just what would have taken place with the tutor. Next, the Regent burst inunannounced with two members of Festhold’s high command. The Regent’smanner was full of slurs and insinuations. When the Regent went out, two assassinscame in, and the Prince made no voluntary motion to defend himself. I doubt that hewould have gotten through the situation on his own. The next day, he wilted whenthe photographs were sprung on him—I could feel the pain it caused him—and I

think he would simply have turned his back on the whole situation. What would havehappened when they came to take him prisoner, I don’t know. If he had still beenunder the influence of the drugs, I suppose he wouldn’t have resisted then, either.”



“How was his judgment in battle?”

“Good. But since I could only occasionally catch his thoughts, I can only judgeby results. He outfought and outmaneuvered the Regent as if the Regent had beenasleep. But the Regent had already been shot through both arms and legs, so he

couldn’t have been in good shape. Still—”“What’s your overall conclusion, Roberts?”

“I think Prince Harold William is exactly what he claims to be, and what hewanted to be. He hasn’t been proclaimed King— but by his own actions, I think hehas won the right to the title of ‘Warlord of Festhold.’ And on a planet that reveresfighting ability, that should count for a lot.”

“Yes, but what about this sense of guilt?” The colonel frowned in thought. “Of course, he may, having fought, and having been badly wounded—”

Roberts nodded. The colonel said, “This brings us back to where we started.What the deuce is the situation there now?”

“You mean, legally?”

“Practically. Let’s see now. The Prince, who is heir to the throne, but not yet of age—”

“Supposedly heir to the throne.”

“Yes,” said the colonel, “there’s that. Well, the Prince, supposedly heir to thethrone, discovers the Regent, who stands in the place of the King, dishonorablyoccupied with the Prince’s sister—”

“Who,” said Roberts, “was the Regent’s ward.”

“M’m. Yes. And the Prince shoots the Regent—”

Roberts said, “In self-defense as much as anger. The Regent was reaching for hisown weapon, at the time.”

“I see. Then the Prince takes the Regent prisoner—”

“Not exactly. He took him to his own aid station for treatment. He gave no ordersthat the Regent was to be held prisoner.”

“Roberts,” said the colonel exasperatedly, “I admit, you were there, you saw it,so this is how it actually happened. But consider how it is going to look . The Prince,backed by a small army, forces an entrance to the Regent’s apartment, catches theRegent with the Princess, shoots him, drags him out, and that night the Regentescapes. The Regent comes back with troops, a battle erupts, the Prince beats theRegent in battle, and the Regent,— who stands in the place of the king—surrenders

to the Prince. What is that? Has the government changed hands? Is the Prince guiltyof rebellion? What is the situation?”



Roberts shook his head. “I don’t know.”

“Well,” said the colonel drily, “all I have to say, Roberts, is that this is anextremely inconvenient time for you to lose contact with the situation.”

“Sorry, sir,” said Roberts, “but as I think of the Prince in that ‘restitution

bath’—it strikes me that this is a pretty good time to be here. And just incidentally,there is something we have yet to clear up.”

“What’s that?”

“Erena.”

“Roberts,” said the colonel exasperatedly, “for all you know, the girl doesn’tcare for you. After all, you appeared as her rescuer, at an appropriatetime—naturally, she—”

The colonel paused, frowning. He leaned forward. “Let’s hear that again,Roberts. How did you know she needed help?”

“She was on the downslide, sir, going into the casino. I was on the upslide.”

“And?”

“Sir?”

“What happened?”

Roberts frowned. “I don’t know. I looked at her. There was a—it was as if shemade an appeal.”

“Did she say anything?”

“No, sir.”

“This all passed in a look ?”

“Yes, sir. It was obvious.”

“And suppose I say you are to keep away from this princess, and forget the

incident—?”

Roberts looked at the colonel, and smiled very slightly.

The colonel grinned. “The question was rhetorical, Roberts. No need to slice myhead off.” The colonel thought intently, then smiled. “Roberts, if the Warlord of Festhold wins his crown, and if Festhold remains firmly allied to the Federation, then

it strikes me that if your name appears before the Warlord, in a request forpermission to see the Princess, then you having influence at court, might be able tomove the Warlord to say ‘Yes.’—After that, you’re on your own.”



XV. The Baths of the Damned

« ^ » Roberts put in a day of increasingly strenuous exercise, and ended up feeling almost

like himself. He slept soundly, to wake up with a helmet on his head, and on thescreen within the helmet, before his eyes, two faint dots that merged into one, andthe one expanded, faded, formed a tiny distant scene, as of an underwater viewwhich began to expand, and grow definite, then fade again, and then again toexpand. The scene was suddenly in focus, clear, wavering before and around him,and he was conscious of one inescapable sensation.

Cold . Around him was a fluid, tinged very faintly pink, in which tiny crystalsmoved. Above him, a brilliant light shone down, its heat lost in the cold fluid thatbathed him. The cold did not end at his skin, but moved slowly through his

veins—an icy chill that seemed to reach the core of his being, to immerse himcompletely, inside and out, in bone-chilling cold.

To his left, something moved, and now he could see the monstrous half-men’shead, shoulders, and arms alone—appearing at his left side, their eyes intent behindthe lenses that formed the eyes of their grotesque white-plastic heads. Carefully, theyexamined Roberts’ left side—and it slowly came to him that this must be the‘restitution baths’ the doctor had spoken of earlier.

The Prince, surely, must be unconscious. But the Prince’s eyes were partly open,

and Roberts was treated to the sight of the surgeons working in this hydraulic wombto correct the damage done in battle.

Roberts tried to disconnect himself from the Prince—and couldn’t do it. Timecrept past. Despite the chill, Roberts could faintly feel the surgeons at work. Thetone of the Prince’s body—or rather the lack of it—began to impress itself on him.

Gradually, he became aware of the burn—somehow muted by the chill—thatcovered the left side of his body. It occurred to Roberts that he was, for practicalpurposes, in a form of purgatory. Why had they had to send him back now?

Then he recognized the symptoms of gathering hysteria, knew from experiencethere was no relief in that direction, and settled down grimly to endure what wasinescapable. It seemed to go on for a long, long time.

Somewhere, in the distance, birds were singing. A quiet male voice said, “He is inhere, Your Excellencies, but he regains consciousness only at long intervals.”

A voice replied with a note like a mosquito, “The just reward of sin.”

The first voice said, “The process of recovery is still in some doubt. Physically,most of the gross damage has been overcome. But there is a severe psychic drainwith such wounds as these.”









“We want to see how the prisoner has been marked.”

Light blinded him as the eyelids opened. The dazzle faded away, as the eyesnearly shut, and through the slit Roberts could see a severely plain white room, withslightly open window looking out across the tops of trees to a brick building several

hundred feet away.Back over his right shoulder, the mosquito-voice was disappointed: “I

understood the flesh was burned away on the left side of his face.”

A second and similar voice put in: “The left side of the body is completelyburned to the bone, is it not?”

Two men perhaps in their late sixties, robed in dark crimson with dark-bluecowls, stood beside the bed, their probing gaze hungrily searching the face and theform under the thin blanket.

An embarrassed doctor said, “The wounds were severe, Your Excellencies. Of course, the tank breakage caused trouble, but—”

The first turned to him. “Draw back the covers. This is Holy Business.”

The doctor hesitated.

The Prince’s voice, low but clear, suddenly dominated the room. “Take thesevultures out of here, Doctor.”

The robed figures jerked back. The doctor looked startled.

The Prince drew a deep breath, and let it out slowly. Roberts could feel the twolegs flex, the right arm bend and extend, the left bend and extend. The was no senseof pain, but a faint stiffness. The first of the robed visitors raised a hand, palm out,and began to gesture in the air, as if warding off evil spirits.

The doctor said uneasily, “Perhaps, Your Excellencies, it would be better if—”

The wounds in the chest were scars—mere dimples to be felt with the fingertips.The Prince’s voice was suddenly jovial.

“On second thought, Doctor, let them stay. These are, I’m sure, the Regent’stame theologians?” The robed figures drew themselves erect. Their eyes glittered.

“You blaspheme!”

Roberts, trying to quiet the Prince, found himself a mere spectator. The Princesat up.

“To blaspheme is to claim godhood, or to be irreverent toward holy things. Iclaim no godhood. I am merely the Warlord!”

“You lie!”

The second robed figure made a sweeping gesture of the outstretched hand. “In



the name of the Holy Crystal, curse your blasphemies! You are sworn condemned!In the Crystal Light, you are a sinner and less!”

The doctor wrung his hands. “Your Excellencies, the patient—”

The eyes of the two cowled figures glinted. Their hands traced figures in the air.

Their lips murmured. Their fingers pointed to the Prince’s eyes and teeth, to hisarms and legs. An air of smoking witchcraft emanated from the pair. Occasionallyrecognizable words could be heard.

“…wither and shrink … eyes water and vision fade … teeth do ache and pain …trembling palsied hands … uncertain gait…”

Roberts could feel the shock. The room seemed to swim before him. With aneffort of will, Roberts drew in a deep breath, exhaled forcibly. The room steadiedaround him.

Before him, an unholy glee lit the two faces, their teeth bared, fingers pointedsuccessively at his eyes, his mouth, his arms, his legs—

Roberts drew another breath. The Prince’s voice was august, said: “Doctor—”

The doctor, trembling, his face pale, eyes blinking, swallowed and turned.Roberts spoke carefully, “Close and lock that door.”

The tone of the order left no possibility of disobedience. The doctor obeyed.Roberts drew another careful breath, and stood up. The faces of the gesticulating

pair before him contorted with rage. Their gestures grew more emphatic, theirmurmurings more incisive. Roberts spoke carefully, and the Prince’s voice was aniron and unbreakable command: “ Be still.”

The two voices ceased to function. Roberts spoke carefully: “Remove yourcloaks.”

The words seemed to echo in the room, filled with a restrained but terrible power.Uncertainly, faces showing evidence of struggle, they removed the cloaks, and stoodholding them. Suddenly, they were plainly gripped by fear.

Roberts spoke carefully: “Bow once to the Warlord.”

Teeth clicking together, the two figures trembled and bowed. Roberts turnedslightly toward the door.

“Unlock that door, Doctor, and open it wide.”

There was a click, and the faint squeal of a hinge. Roberts turned to the twofigures shaking uncontrollably before him.

“Leave this room, and thank the Almighty Power that you still live.”

Shaking, they backed to the door, turned, and the sounds of running feetdwindled down the corridor. Roberts breathed carefully.



“Close that door, Doctor.” The door clicked shut.

“Come here.”

The doctor, jaw clamped shut, eyes wide, obediently approached. Roberts couldfeel a knot of cold terror within him slowly relax. Roberts sat on the edge of the bed,

and spoke more easily.

“Now that the hirelings of the Regent are gone, we can speak less formally. Theforces of the Traitor have now been defeated in personal combat, defeated on thefield of battle, and defeated by spiritual power. What is the legal situation?”

The doctor hesitated. “I—until a few minutes ago, I had no doubts—” Heswallowed. “I understand simply that the Regent had been ambushed, that there hadbeen a local uprising, and the—the degenerate youngest son of the royal family hadbeen captured, badly wounded, when the Regent put down the uprising.”

Briefly, Roberts thought back. “And have there been no rumors?”

“Oh, there have been fantastic rumors! The Prince and the Regent have fought aduel. The Prince has declared himself Warlord. The Regent and the Prince havefought a pitched battle. It was only when the Regent gave a personal address andreleased the official report that the rumors died down.”

“And the troops on the field of battle?”

The doctor looked blank.

Roberts said carefully, “What you have heard, Doctor, has been a carefully madelie. In this case, the rumors were much closer to the truth. The rumors could neverhave died down, or the lie been accepted—if the troops who knew the truth

first-hand could tell it .”

The doctor blinked. “But—oh, I see.” He turned, to look directly at Roberts.“But the troops were off-lifted because of the Emergency!”

“And what pretext was there for an Emergency?”

“There was the rumor of a Stath invasion fleet.”Not for the first time, Roberts was regretting that he had not let the Prince finish

off the Regent when he had the chance.

“Has this rumor proved true?”

“No, but the Regent has warned that every precaution must be taken until we canbe certain of Stath good-will.”

“Ah,” said Roberts. “And has any misfortune to any of the troops beenreported?”

“I—not that I know of.”



“The obvious thing would be to kill the witnesses. But in this case, the witnessesare armed and no doubt suspicious. How long have I been under treatment?”

“Here? Or before the accident?”

Roberts looked at the doctor. “What accident are you speaking of?”

“When the restitution tank broke.”

“How long ago was that?”

“Oh, that was—months ago. We had to start all over again.”

“I suppose healing was almost complete, when the tank accidentally broke?”

“Well, not complete, but coming right along. You’d been several weeks in thetank.”

“I see.” Roberts thought it over. If he remembered correctly, the Prince was tobe tested for his fitness to rule in four months. That had been back before the battlewith the Regent. Thanks to the ‘accident’ with the tank, the time had been disposedof nicely. The Regent had meanwhile established his own story of what hadhappened. That was bound to be ruinous for the Prince. Roberts cleared his throat.

“Where are we?”

“This is Capital General Hospital. I am Doctor du Beck, and I’ve been in chargeof the case since the accident.”

Roberts said carefully, “You’re no relation of Field Marshal du Beck, Isuppose?”

The doctor looked tense. “Yes, sir. He is my cousin. But I assure you, I am in noway implicated—After all, that involved only the military.”

Roberts said carefully, “Remember, I have been unconscious—or onlyoccasionally conscious—for quite a while. Field Marshal du Beck was in goodrepute the last I knew.”

“Yes—yes, that’s true. But that was before the Emergency was declared! FieldMarshal du Beck and several members of the General Staff were found to be insecret contact with the Stath.”

Roberts nodded. “I see. Now, who guards this building?”

“The Regent’s own Household Guard.”

“And what is that building over there?”

“The City Palace—I believe, strictly speaking, it’s the Capital City Administration

Building, but everyone calls it the City Palace.”“The Regent’s headquarters?”



“Yes.”

“Now, is the Regent to be notified as soon as I come to?”

“Why, yes, that’s correct.”

“All right. Now, doctor, is your cousin’s—disgrace—a burden on your mind?”

“It is a—the name—” The doctor couldn’t go on.

Roberts nodded. “It was, of course, basically your cousin’s word against theRegent’s.”

The doctor blinked.

Roberts said, “You have already seen what the Regent’s spiritual advisors arelike.”

The doctor swallowed.

Roberts went on, “In every contest so far between Duke Marius and me, DukeMarius has been defeated. Unfortunately, the Regent still has the power of the stateat his disposal. But the time remaining to him as Regent is now short. Field Marshaldu Beck is a witness, as was General Hugens—”

“ Hugens!” said the doctor. “He was the go-between!”

Roberts said patiently, “The guilt of your cousin and General Hugens consists intheir being witnesses that I was drugged while under the care of the Regent. Now,would you like to have your name freed of this suggestion of treason?”

The doctor’s eyes suddenly filled with tears. With an effort, he looked away. Hestood up, and after a moment, turned to face the Prince. “What can I do?”

XVI. Everyone Has His Reasons« ^ »

The voice of the guard said, “But we have no order to let you in!”

“I repeat,” said Dr. du Beck, “the Regent told me personally that he wished tosee this patient as soon as possible after he awakened—That was the Regent’s order

.”

“Yes, sir—”

Roberts looked around from the stretcher. From this angle, he had a view of along, wide, high-ceilinged and immaculate hall with high double doors that openedoff to either side. At the head and the foot of the stretcher bored burly orderlies held









the grips, and waited. “My dear sir,” said Doctor du Back, “if you wish to block theorders of the Regent—”

“Wait right here,” said the guard. He turned and ran with a clink of metal and rapof heels down the corridor to the door at the far end.

Dr. du Beck glanced at Roberts. Roberts nodded toward the far end of the hall.

Dr. du Beck growled, “Damn these military, anyway! One says one thing, thenanother says something else, and—why do we have to wait here all day? The Regentoutranks the guard, doesn’t he?—Let’s go!”

Both orderlies gave approving grunts, and followed the doctor down the longhall. As they approached the far end, they could hear the guard’s tremblingexplanation, and the angry voice of the Regent.

“No,” said the Regent flatly. “Get out of here.” The guard backed out the door.

Dr. du Beck knocked both doors open wide, and said loudly, “Your excellency,I have obeyed your command precisely.”

The guard sucked in his breath. The orderlies shoved their way past.

Ahead of them, beside a door at the end of a short entry hall, the Regent openedhis mouth speechlessly. The doctor, the orderlies, and the pale immobile figure onthe stretcher—all were now inside the Regent’s office.

Across the room, bound tightly to a high-backed chair, sat the Princess Erena.The doctor paused, speechless. The orderlies blinked and looked again.

The Regent said shortly, “You are intruding in a matter of high State policy! Who

ordered you— ”

Dr. du Beck said, “You wished to see the prisoner as soon as he regainedconsciousness. Here he is.”

The Regent looked at the Prince, and Roberts allowed his eyelids to shut, thenraised them again.

“H’m,” said the Regent. “Very well, Doctor. This is inconvenient in its way, butpossibly some use can be made of it, after all. Leave the patient with me. I will havemy—personal doctors—care for him.”

Dr. du Beck bowed stiffly. “Set the stretcher down, orderlies, and come withme.” The two orderlies eyed the beautiful woman tied to the chair, and hesitated.

Princess Erena smiled. “Don’t try to help me. He has a guard outside, two morein the hall, half-a-dozen at the desk downstairs, and the rest of a fifty-man section of guards in quarters on the top floor. In any case, I am not worried now that my

brother is here.”

The orderlies glanced at the pale figure motionless on the stretcher. They looked



at each other embarrassedly, and glanced at the doctor, who jerked his head towardthe outside. The inner door closed behind them. A moment later, the outer doorsbanged shut. There was a sound of footsteps going down the hall.

The Regent exhaled, and sat on a corner of the desk. “So, Harold, even your

vitality has its limits.”Roberts forced the eyelids open, then let them drop. The Regent sighed.

“Life is a curious thing. We act—for what reason?—and the act binds us. Amotive is assumed. And if we cannot prove a different motive, we are bound by thatone. We acquire a reputation, and our actions are interpreted in accordance with thatreputation, and motives assigned to us that match the reputation. One man runs andhe is a coward. Another runs, and he is going to get reinforcements. It is unfair, andyet it is often true. We shape the mold by our actions, and the mold we have madethen shapes our actions. And it is a strong man who can break that mold, once it isformed.”

Roberts sighed, but said nothing.

The Regent said, “Why should your family have such vitality? Why should theycommand and others obey? Why should I feel pain to see you lying there? Why,moreover, should I waste my effort with this sister of yours, seeking to gainapproval when approval from her is forever denied me? Fool that I am, I wouldmarry her if she would have me, and rear new little Harold Williams of the samebreed, and then nothing at all would be changed.”

Erena said quietly, “Duke Marius believes that our family is bad for Festhold.”She glanced at the Regent. “But the kings of our line have been good rulers.”

The Regent said, “I don’t know why I should want to convince you. It is, of course, impossible. Certainly the kings have been good—as kings. If they had beenbad, I would not have to end the line. The trouble is that they have been good. Theyhave given validity to a form of government which otherwise would be invalid. Mydifficulty is that I must prove its invalidity. Yet—after three years of the mostpainstaking psychological sabotage—your brother—one of this abnormal line—at

the very moment towards which all the preparation has been aimed—at this precisemoment, your brother reverts to type. He regains his strength, outwits me, convincesthe High Command itself, stands suddenly surrounded and protected by his ownGuard, destroys the effect of a plan worked out over a period of years, and all atonce to put him down is a matter that requires armed force. Then he becomes inactual fact the Warlord of Festhold, leads an attack straight into the teeth of anoverpowering force, scatters it, captures a tank single-handed, goes back as muchdead as alive, removes his troops from the trap I am preparing, and outflanks andcaptures me. Such a person may not be allowed to live!”

Princess Erena said exasperatedly, “Why? That is exactly how the King of Festhold is supposed to act!”



“Because,” the Regent burst out, “it is unfair ! The top should be open to anyone

! Why should I, the second greatest in the realm, be barred off from the top bythis—this barrier of royalty?” He whirled suddenly, and bent by the stretcher.

“How are you, Harold?”

Roberts murmured, “Harold?”

The Regent carefully drew down the blankets. “Agh! What a burn that was! Themind connected to the nerve-endings that felt that burn must have gone through hell!And here—” He drew aside the hospital gown. “—Yes, three such wounds asthose— plus the burn—were you conscious when the restitution tank broke?”

“Broke?” murmured Roberts.

Across the room, Princess Erena began to cry. The Regent pulled back thehospital gown, and drew the covers up into place. He straightened.

Roberts, the surgical scalpel in his right hand, close to his side, lay still, butforced his eyes open. He looked blankly at Duke Marius. The Regent noddedslowly.

“It may turn out, after all. The rumors, of course, may never die completely. Butit is the official history that counts, and I will control that.” He nodded, and turned tothe quietly sobbing Erena.

“Very well, my dear. He may have his public Trial, as the law requires. And

afterward,—” The Regent hesitated, then spoke generously, “you may even go tovisit him. Do not complain. You have lost. But you have not lost everything. And itwill be best for the country, too. You will see.”

The Regent hesitated, then added, “ Actually, that is why I am doing this.”

XVII. The Trial« ^ »

The roll of drums and blast of trumpets, the snap of smartly handled weapons, theground-shaking tramp of boot heels striking in unison—all were silenced at last asthe procession halted in the high open-sided “Cathedral of Truth.” The tall doorsalong the sides folded back between the massive pillars to allow a view of theproceedings to the ranked array outside, on the gently sloping rise of ground.

In front of Roberts loomed a plain altar. To the right of the altar, overhead lights

came on, to illuminate a massive black square-edged opaque block lying tilted up ata slight angle on a strong wooden frame.









Before the altar, a dark-haired, dark-bearded man in dark crimson robe withdark-blue cowl thrown back, spoke quietly. “Our prayers for true guidance, and fora true sign, have been made, and the time is now come for the trial. Step forward,Harold William, and halt before the stone.”

Roberts, who had expected to see a large quartzlike crystal, with the swordprojecting upright, found himself instead before a sort of flat slate block with ahemispherical recess a foot across in the end of the block facing him. Inside thishemispherical recess, the hilt of a plain business-like sword could be seen.

The figure before the altar spoke again: “That all may know the outcome of thistrial, let the Speaker step forward, and give true and just account.”

A massive figure in dark crimson robe and dark-blue cowl approached withstately tread from Roberts’ right and halted oppressively close to him.

The figure before the altar said, “Let the heir seek to draw the blade from therock.”

Roberts, puzzled at the utilitarian look of the block and the sword, leaned slightlyforward, and found the “speaker” slightly blocking him.

At the same moment, three things happened. Roberts, in leaning forward, wasstruck by the reflection from the end face of the block, which showed him a narrowhorizontal line reaching out from either side of the hemispherical hollow. The linesuggested a cleavage in the block, which would enable it to be opened up along the

plane of the cavity in which the sword must lie.As Roberts leaned slightly forward, the speaker beside him intoned, “The heir is

trembling. He falls!”

At the same instant, Roberts felt a piercing sensation in his right arm—a sensationlike the sting of a wasp. The cathedral spun around him, turned end-for-end … Thespeaker’s voice was the last thing he heard.

“The rock has spoken—‘ I reject him!’ ”

Roberts felt the impact of the hard stones of the cathedral floor, and thennothing.

XVIII. The Lowest Nobleman of the Realm

« ^ »

There was a singing in his ears. At last, the singing died away to be replaced by avoice, and the voice faded into a desolate sobbing. He opened his eyes.









Erena, head bent, hands over her eyes, cried as if the world could never be rightagain. He sat up dizzily, and there was a rustle and crackle, and the faint stiffness of the cloth on his chest.

Puzzled, he felt his chest, found a piece of stiff paper, and tried vainly to remove

it. Erena saw his movement, swallowed, and said, “Lie back, William. You—You’refaint, still.”

He saw her, and he heard her voice, but as if coming from a distance. His fingersfound the head of a large pin, and he drew it out.

The paper—or card—fell loose, and lay face-up on the ground:

Patent of Nobility

Know all men by this document that we, the Lords Spiritual of the Holy Temple of Festhold, do hereby warrant that Harold William (formerly of the Royal Family of Festhold) is, of a right, and by ancient usage, secured, he and his heirs and assignsforever, full title to the Baronage of Scrattel and is to be known in future in the styleof the Baron of Scrattel, which rank and privilege is and shall rank behind, beneath,and below, the rank and privilege of each and every other Festhold title of nobility atpresent existing, including but not limited to the former lowest rank of nobility, theBaronage of Foulmarsh.

Done this day, by accord with ancient usage.

From the bowl-shaped hollow surrounding the Cathedral of Truth came a quietshout—and then a curious sound, like a drawn-out moan. Roberts, heart beatingfast, looked up dizzily from the paper. He was aware that, as he looked up, Erenalooked up too, at a crimson-robed dark blue-cowled figure which laid a hand on hershoulder.

“The Regent commands your presence, Erena. It is not proper that one of yourrank should consort with the lower ranks of lesser nobles.”

Roberts, feeling urgently at his belt, discovered that the sword he had worn to theceremony was there—the same sword, apparently, with which he—or rather, thePrince—had fought several months before.

A voice was intoning from the Cathedral: “The sword moves! Butnow—something seems to draw it back—now the Regent strengthens hisgrasp—the cloth tightens at his arm—”

Roberts glanced at the watchful crimson-robed figure, listened to the voice, andsuddenly laughed. He bowed slightly. “By your permission, Your Worship.”

He glanced at Princess Erena. “If Your Highness will for a moment condescendto the lowest of the nobles—”



He took off robe and shirt. The crimson-robed watcher sucked in his breath. “Itis forbidden for a male to disrobe before a Royal Princess!”

Princess Erena’s eyes flashed, and her lips tightened. “What is it, William?”

“I am curious about the ‘wasp’ which stung me when the ‘speaker’ in there

brushed my arm. Is there a swelling?—In the right arm.”

The crimson-robed figure stepped forward authoritatively, blocked the princesswith his arm—Erena’s mouth came open. She gasped—and then crumpled to theground.

The priest snarled, “You have shocked her! Go!” He raised his arm and pointed.

From the Cathedral of Truth, the voice of the speaker intoned: “Now—now itbegins to draw out—but no—some malign force draws it back … The Regent, hisgreat muscles distended—”

Roberts decided that the sword in the stone was at least the equal of DukeMarius, even if it had been slit open and half-a-dozen electromagnets planted in it bythe temple priests. That left Roberts time for a more pressing question. He steppedforward, hit the crimson-robed figure across the face, jerked off the robe, andspotted the wrist strap with the round disk, a pointed needle protruding from itscenter.

“Now, by the Almighty Power—” said a familiar voice, and suddenly Robertsrecognized the voice.

Prince Harold William, now the Baron of Scrattel, had the proof plainly beforehim of what must have happened. Too late, it dawned on Roberts that the Princewould have been far more overawed, and hence less capable of realizing what hadbeen done to him, inside the Cathedral of Truth. But he knew now.

As the “speaker” intoned from within, describing further struggle between DukeMarius and the recalcitrant Sword, and as a low moan and a stamping of feet seizedthe assembled crowd, the Prince drew his own sword from its sheath, and spokeflatly: “One act of disobedience and your life ends here. Put on your cloak.”

The Prince’s sword reached out and lightly touched the strap on the templepriest’s wrist. The strap parted, and the device fell to the ground.

The priest hesitated, looking at the very light line of blood droplets forming wherethe sword had touched him. Suddenly he began to tremble, and put on the crimsonrobe.

The Prince spoke coldly, and the words were an iron command: “Lift and carrythe Princess.”

The scarlet robed figure obeyed.

“Walk straight to the main door of the Cathedral.” The Prince, sword drawn,



followed close behind. Ahead of them, the tall doors stood open.

XIX. The Warlord’s Challenge

« ^ » The standing space of wide high-vaulted interior was filled, and the aisles cloggedwith armed noblemen straining to see better what was taking place up front.

The “speaker” was intoning: “…Now … now! … Now! Now the stone yields!The sword begins to draw forth … Hold! … Something draws it back!…”

The impatience of the crowd was evident in the murmurings, jostlings, andoccasional tramping of feet that started up from one or another quarter of the crowd.The temple priest halted.

“We can’t get through.”

The Prince drew in his breath. His voice suddenly dominated the gathering,silencing the “speaker”, stopping the disorder of the crowd, turning faces all over thecathedral. The command, loud, clear and carrying, seemed to remain, somehowechoing in the silence, after the words had been spoken: “MAKE WAY FOR THEWARLORD!”

As the crowd craned, the Prince spoke more quietly, but his voice still carried:“Step aside, gentlemen. We will end this farce, now and forever!”

Preceded by the temple priest carrying the unconscious girl, the Prince pacedslowly up the aisle, the bare sword in his hand, as the curious nobles moved out of the way. At the front of the cathedral, there was silence as the temple priests and theRegent looked on, as much at a loss as everyone else.

Suddenly one of the temple priests smiled. His voice, amused and contemptuousrang out: “Why look! It is the Baron of Scrattel!”

Roberts could feel the sudden pain of the Prince, and realized that thisinsignificant blow had found the joint in the Prince’s armor. Roberts didn’t wait forthe Prince to recover. He spoke carefully, and the magnificent voice rose over thecrowd:

“IT IS THE WARLORD.”

The statement rang in the air, flat, final, and definite.

Roberts suddenly could feel the change in the atmosphere. A murmur passed

through the crowd, followed by intense silence. Ahead of him, the aisle opened up.

At the front of the Cathedral of Truth, the temple priests stood staring. The









Regent, slightly bent over, drenched in sweat, one hand in the hemisphere of thecrystal, looked on with a ludicrous expression of disbelief.

The scarlet-robed figure carrying the Princess now reached the head of the aisle.The Prince said, “Turn and face the assembly.” His voice carried. The temple priest

turned around, holding the Princess.“My lords and gentlemen,” said the Prince, facing still toward the head of the

aisle, “I trust you will forgive my speaking with my back to you, but it is unsafe totake one’s eyes from these clever hirelings who masquerade in the cloth of ourChurch, though they are in reality servants of this false and regicide regent. The samewho is still struggling here to draw the sword!”

Well above the level of the aisle, a white-haired, white-bearded figure in fadedscarlet robes looked down from a little balcony, and a grim smile crossed his face.The Regent straightened, let go of the hilt of the sword still in the crystal, and beganto speak.

The Prince abruptly stepped forward, his voice cut the Regent short. “Observe,my lords and gentlemen!”

With two quick strokes, he slit the back and then the arm of the ‘speaker’s’crimson cloak, reached out with his free hand, and tore the rest of the sleeve loose.Under the cloth was the same round device the other temple priest had worn.

“ Raise,” said the Prince—and the sting of a wasp burst at his chest into

spreading waves of agony. For the second time the cathedral spun around him.White-hot fire seemed to bathe his body.

The Prince fought off the pain, and sucked in a deep breath. His voice rose overthe assemblage:

“KILL ME THESE SCARLET HIRELINGS—AND THIS REGICIDETRAITOR!”

Then the drug was swept on to his brain, and the last thing he heard was theshout of the crowd.

XX. The Regent’s Reply

« ^ » Somewhere, once again, birds were singing.

“Well, well,” said a coarse feminine voice, “I see you’re coming around,Charmer. Too bad your little dream didn’t work out. But you’ve still got us.”









The Prince’s eyes opened. Beside the head of the bed stood a girl of nineteen orso, heavy, wearing a tight black skirt and a tight pink blouse. Near the foot of thebed, lips warped up in a smile that bared a lot of teeth, stood the short plumpred-faced tutor.

“Well, Ex—about that twist—you always wanted—”Roberts braced himself, heard the girl say insinuatingly, “After all, you’re just the

Baron of Scrattel now. You might as well enjoy yourself—”

The tutor added, faintly smiling, “—while His Majesty wins the hand of fairErena—No relation to you any more, of course—”

The Prince tried to get up. The ropes held him where he was. The tutor glancedat the girl, and bared his teeth in a smile.

The Prince sucked in a deep breath. He wrenched, twisted. The blood poundedin his ears. The girl screamed. The tutor shouted, “Get the hypo!” The ropes broke.

The tutor jumped back, eyes staring, jerked out a knife—The Prince reached out,gripped an unlit lamp on a table, threw it hard—The lamp hit the tutor squarely in thechest, knocked him against the wall. He banged his head, fell to the floor—

The girl rushed in carrying the hypodermic. The Prince’s voice was an ironcommand; “ Inject the tutor .”

The girl swallowed, tried to speak, looked blank, turned, knelt by the tutor, and

pulled back his sleeve. She pushed the hypodermic into the flesh, and slowlypressed the plunger. She withdrew the hypodermic, stood up trembling, wiped herupper lip and then her forehead, dropped the hypodermic, turned, and suddenly leftthe room.

The Prince knelt by the tutor, and pried the knife from his fingers. He went outthe door, and found himself in a rough room about twelve feet square, with a table inthe center, an oil lamp with badly trimmed wick smoking on the table. Beside thelamp was the Patent of Nobility guaranteeing to Harold William the Baronage of Scrattel.

The Prince glanced briefly at the paper, then walked to what appeared to be theouter door of the room. Holding the knife by his side, the blade turned back out of sight, he pulled the door open with his left hand.

A burly guard, carrying a rifle in his right hand, turned around. His heavy browscame together to form a flat line over clear and startled eyes.

“Say, now—where do you think you’re going?”

He planted his big left hand flat on the Prince’s chest, and shoved. The Prince

pressed his own left hand hard over the hand on his chest, pinning it there, andbowed, bending the hand sharply back on the wrist. The guard sucked in his breath,and went to his knees. The gun crashed on the floor.



“A slight motion,” said the Prince gently, pinning the captive hand, bowing just abit more, and showing the knife, “and your life’s blood flows out on this dirt.”

“No—”

“Who do you serve?”

“The Regent.”

“Serve now Harold William, Lord Scrattel, Warlord of Festhold, or—”

“Your lordship is not as the Regent described. I transfer my allegiance. TheRegent lied.”

The Prince straightened. “And what did the Regent say?”

“He said you were a debauchee given to fits of fainting, living only for dope and

depravity.” The guard massaged his wrist. “No self-respecting freeman couldwillingly serve such a person, even were he the Lord of Scrattel himself. The Regentsaid it was not for long, and I would get two minims a week for each report.”

“No reason why not,” said the Prince, studying the guard’s face. “Come to me,and we will work the reports out together. I must fail rapidly in these reports—butnot so that I do not have time to deal with this Regent.”

“But how will your lordship do that?”

“Surely the Baronage of Scrattel, though it is not the greatest on the planet, has

weapons for the service of its lord?”

“Aye—There’s Salver, the great sword of the Third Lord, and there’s the Gun inthe Great House, where it is always kept. But—”

“But what?”

“How will my lord reach the Regent?”

“If you can send reports to him, I can reach him by the same road as themessenger who bears the reports.”

The guard shook his head. “If your lordship has the time—I might show thenature of the difficulty.”

The Prince nodded. “Good. But first, is there some weapon here? If the Regenthas other guards—”

“No—or rather, I am in charge of such others as there are. The Regent wished toleave some of his own men on guard, but they swore that they would die out of hispresence, and he finally decided that I could do it, with such freemen of Scrattel as Icould muster. To watch such as he described—” The guard shrugged.

“Still, I would like a weapon.”



“In the cupboard behind the door, there should be a hogsticker. One moment,my lord, I’ll go look.”

The guard led the way in, turned the lamp way down, growled, “What a fearfulwaste of oil,” went into the darkest corner of the room, wrenched and twisted at

what appeared to be the wall itself—then something gave a loud squeak, and theguard staggered back, grunted in satisfaction, then swore.

“Ah, well—here we are.”

Prince Harold William stepped back as a large rat bolted past him for the opendoor. Then the guard appeared, carrying a short heavy spear.

“For such as we are likely to run into, this should be enough.”

The Prince took the spear. “Do you have trouble with the rats here?”

“The cats are afraid of ‘em, my lord. We can’t seem to put them down. But thewild hogs are worse.”

“M’m. Well, lead the way.”

The guard swung his gun so as to have it ready, and led the way down a path thatled through heavy brush into a field high with hay. He pointed as he walked. “Yon’sthe Great House.”

The Prince glanced at a sort of low stone barn covered with moss, and combinedwith a square tower at one corner. Roberts, seeing the same things that the Princewas seeing, asked himself what the history of Festhold must be for it to have such aplace in it as the Baronage of Scrattel. Roberts had the sensation of being in abackwater of time itself.

The Prince growled, “Only show me the road out of here—”

The guard put his hand on the Prince’s arm. “Careful, my lord. Every few years,we lose a child this way.”

He pushed aside a dense growth of brush, and the Prince pressed forward, then

abruptly stopped. The woods ended in empty air. He looked down to see the edgeof a cliff. He leaned slightly forward. Hundreds of feet below, blue water sparkled.

As he pressed back the brush to see more clearly, his gaze followed the bluewater, out and out—to the horizon.

XXI. Restlessness In Festhold« ^ »









Colonel Valentine Sanders sat back, and ran a hand through his close-croppediron-gray hair. “I have to admit, Roberts, I owe you a debt of gratitude for taking onthis job. If there is anything I hate, it’s an inside job—and this one tops the averageby a long distance.”

Roberts said exasperatedly, “No matter what I do, or what the Prince decides to

do, Duke Marius had already worked out some low blow or dirty trick to nullify it.”

The colonel’s eyes narrowed. “Nevertheless, it has gained time for us—fourmonths of unexpected surprises for the Festhold Regent.”

“Who,” asked Roberts. “is now king?”

“According to the Lords Spiritual of the Holy Temple of Festhold…”

“What about the nobility?”

“According to these same Lords Spiritual, the Regent was tacitly approved by atwo-thirds majority of the nobility at the ceremony in which the Regent drew thesword from the stone.”

“ ‘Tacitly’?—Isn’t there supposed to be a formal vote?”

“Their constitution doesn’t lay it down definitely.”

“He did finally draw the sword?”

The colonel smiled. “By now, Roberts, we have crucial spots on the planet wellsaturated with parasite circuits. The technology of Festhold is highly developed, butone of the things they aren’t familiar with is a spy-device that amounts to little morethan a charged dust-particle. I doubt that it occurs to them that such a thing could bepossible. We already had the parasite circuits there, and the micro-relays sowed,when the Prince went to draw the sword from the stone. We were watching when the‘speaker’ bumped the Prince with his arm. We were unseen observers when DukeMarius got a grip on the sword and tried to draw it from the rock, and when thePrince, preceded by the temple priest carrying Princess Erena, came back into theCathedral of Truth. As for whether the Regent finally managed to draw thesword—well, he drew a sword, Roberts, and brandished it over his head.”

“What sword was this?”

The colonel swiveled his chair, picked up a little pamphlet, and tossed it on hisdesk. Roberts found himself looking at a nicely printed booklet with the title in largered letters:

THE TRUTH ABOUT THE TRIAL

Roberts opened the booklet, to look at a remarkably well drawn sketch showingthe Prince standing before the stone, with the “speaker” approaching from the side.



Beneath the sketch was a single sentence: “Never before has a ‘speaker’ joined in aTrial.”

Roberts turned the page, to read:

WHY WAS THE SPEAKER THERE?

On the opposite page, a sketch showed the Prince beginning to reach out to thestone, and also showed the “speaker” bumping the Prince.

Roberts turned the page, to see the Prince falling to the floor over the caption,“The heir is trembling. He falls!”

The next sketch showed the speaker’s arm enlarged, his cloak cut away as if by apair of scissors. Strapped to his arm was a round device with a sharp needle in thecenter. Roberts turned the page, to see the speaker faintly smiling as the Prince wascarried out.

On the next page, the Regent, faintly smiling, reached out to grip the hilt of thesword in the stone. The next four pages, in realistic detail, were devoted to aprogressively more disheveled and desperate Regent straining to draw the swordfrom the stone, as a progressively less confident “speaker” intoned:

“The sword moves!”

“The Regent strengthens his grasp…”

“Some malign force draws it back…”

“The Regent, his great muscles distended—”

The following two pages showed the Regent, the speaker, and the temple priestsdrawn back in horror, as the Prince, sword drawn, advanced up the aisle, precededby a temple priest carrying Princess Erena.

Next came a view of a different temple priest crouched on a balcony aiming along gun with large sights, and then a scene showing the Prince falling.

Following that, a crowd of temple priests stood around the fallen Prince,blocking the view, as other temple priests rushed up in a body to further block theview of the stone. Yet another, carrying something under his cloak, hurried towardthe stone itself.

The next scene, magnificently detailed, showed the Regent, his expressionrelieved, drawing out a sword, the scabbard of which was held close underneath therock by a crouching temple priest. When the Regent triumphantly waved the drawnsword overhead in the following scene, the sword had apparently been drawn fromthe stone itself.



Beneath the sketch were the words: “Thus he drew the sword.”

The final sketch showed the Regent, still waving the sword, shouting at theblank-faced and confused nobles. The caption beneath read: “Thus he wasapproved by the nobles.”

The last page bore the words:

IS DUKE MARIUS KING??

Roberts leafed carefully through the booklet once again, smiled, and handed itback to the colonel.

The colonel said, “A print shop set up very quietly on the planet, a few yearsback, turned this pamphlet out by the hundreds of thousands of copies. I think it’sfair to say that there is now a certain amount of restlessness in the Kingdom of Festhold.”

“Where is Erena?”

“She’s the Regent’s guest in his City Palace.”

“How far are we from Festhold right now?”

The colonel smiled. “Just outside massometer detection range of the nearestFesthold warship.”

“And where is the Festhold Royal Guard?”

“Loaded into transports and being shuttled from one destination to another,”

“I see.”

“What do you have in mind, Roberts?”

“I think we’ve gone about as far as an ‘inside job’ is likely to take us—unless

someone wants to do an inside job on Duke Marius—”

The colonel shook his head. “Theoretically, there seems to be no reason whynot. But in practice, something goes wrong—assuming we find a volunteer willing tolet someone like Duke Marius—ah—‘drive’ the volunteer’s ‘vehicle’ during his ownabsence.”

Roberts said, “How many such volunteers are there?”

“For that assignment, we’d be doing well to locate anyone who would listen pastthe first three sentences. In all ways, it seems to work best if there is at least some

compatibility in character,”

“So that approach is out?”



The colonel said irritably, “Roberts, I am not volunteering. Are you?”

“No, sir,” said Roberts flatly.

“Then,” said the colonel, “I think we can safely say that approach is out.”

“All right, then we had better approach this from the outside.”

The colonel frowned, “The natural result will be a head-on clash between DukeMarius’ supporters and whoever will rally to Harold William. This could result in alot of casualties—and incidentally lose us Harold William.”

Roberts said, “I think I see a way to avoid that.”

The colonel looked interested. “What do you have in mind, Roberts?”

“Of course, it’s only the beginning of an idea—”

The colonel leaned forward. “Never mind that. Possibly we can develop it. Let’shear it.”

XXII. The Outside Job

« ^

»

Roberts carefully looked over the filled-in message blank, sat back in the patrolship’s control seat, and read intently:

MESSAGE BEGINSH M FORCES CONTROLFESTHOLD CAPITOL

TO COMMANDING OFFICER

OUTER DEFENSE COMMANDSECTOR U3R

URGENTULTIMATE SECRETTOP PRIORITY

EMBARK ROYAL GUARD REGIMENT AT ONCEDESTINATION FESTHOLD CAPITOLBY COMMAND THE REGENT

TOP PRIORITY









ULTIMATE SECRETURGENT

MESSAGE ENDS

Roberts pressed a button to the left of the instrument panel, near a glowing amberlens lettered “Sym Cmp.”

Roberts said, “This order to the Commanding Officer of Festhold’s outerDefense Command will be sent by S-Wave?”

“That is correct,” said the blank voice of the symbiotic computer. “Acommunications probe will enter and transmit from the nearby Festholdcommunications node.”

Roberts said uneasily, “Is this in the usual style of Festhold military commands?

For instance, there’s no name for this commanding officer.”

“Owing to the rapid depletion of manpower in Sector U3R,” said the symbioticcomputer, “this is customary. Festhold commanders usually lead their troops inperson. In Sector U3R, which is in close contact with the Stath, the life expectancyof a Festhold military commander is low.”

“Even at the top?”

“Average life expectancy of commanding officers in this sector is 4.9 weeksduring active combat. Combat is now exceptionally severe.”

“I thought the Stath were secretly negotiating with the Regent.”

“This is the Stath manner of negotiating.”

Roberts frowned, and glanced again at the message. “This is classified ‘UltimateSecret,’ yet we’re going to send it by S-Wave from a communications probe?”

The symbiotic computer sounded noticeably smug. “A Festhold encoder wascovertly removed by one of our I-Class ships from a ruined Festhold commandcenter following a recent heavy Stath raid. We have the encoder and the

code-of-the-day signal.”

“So this command will go out in code, by the usual military channel?”


“It’s sent on the authority of ‘The Regent.’ Hasn’t he claimed to be king?”

“A peculiar situation exists. To the Festhold Armed Forces, ‘the King’ stillmeans Harold William. To avoid confusion, Duke Marius is still using his title of Regent in military communications.”

Roberts nodded, and looked at the second message:



MESSAGE BEGINSH M FORCES CONTROLFESTHOLD CAPITOL

TO SECOND-IN-COMMANDROYAL GUARD REGIMENTURGENTULTIMATE SECRETTOP PRIORITYPERSONAL TO SC RGRCHANGE IN CODE

SITUATION HERE REQUIRES TOTAL DEVOTION TO THE REALM

YOU MUST BE PREPARED FOR DIRECT ORDER TO CARRY OUTTASK OF EXTREME DIFFICULTY AND DANGERI COUNT ON YOU AND ON EACH GUARDSMAN PERSONALLYBY COMMANDHAROLD WILLIAMCO RGRWARLORD OF FESTHOLD

CHANGE IN CODEPERSONAL TO SC RGR

TOP PRIORITYULTIMATE SECRETURGENT

MESSAGE ENDS

Roberts said, “This ‘change in code’—”

The symbiotic computer’s voice used the tone of a teacher explaining thealphabet. “Each Festhold soldier has a personal code. This is in order that personal

information may be sent to him in privacy. When the message reaches its destinationand is deciphered, and then decoded, that portion of the message between the words‘change in code’ is left untouched. Any routine code-machine’s attempt to interpretthe personal message will produce gibberish, or occasionally, a completely falsemessage. A—ah—‘inside job’—has now been completed within the Festhold InnerMessage Center, and the personal code-setting of Lieutenant-Colonel Stran duMorgan is now known to us. This code-setting is an instruction to be given to thecode-machine, the so-called ‘Festhold encoder.’ The code-machine will then reducethe personal section of the message to the same form as the remainder of themessage. The further application of the code-of-the-day setting will then decode thepersonal message. But this can only be done by someone knowing the personalcode of the second-in-command of the Royal Guard Regiment.”



“And if meanwhile he’s been killed?”

“In that event, the message could not be decoded.”

Roberts said exasperatedly, “The message isn’t addressed to Colonel duMorgan. It’s addressed to the ‘second-in-command.’ ”

“Colonel du Morgan is the second-in-command.”

“Yes, but if the casualty rate is so high—”

“The Festhold Royal Guard will reach this sector only shortly after the messagereaches it. Because of a subspace anomaly, it is possible to reach the Outer DefenseCommand quickly from Festhold. The clique of Duke Marius now controls the HighCommand of Festhold. This clique has been keeping the Royal Guard in motion, toprevent the Guardsmen from fraternizing with other military units. By doing so, theywould spread the truth about the battle against Duke Marius.”

“It would seem to me,” said Roberts, “that the place for the Regent to have putthem, from the first, would have been where the fighting was so heavy that theywould been quickly killed off.”

“This is correct.”

“Then—”

“The clique of Duke Marius, the Regent, was nervous and unhinged following thebattle, and later the confrontation at the Cathedral of Truth. They have only bystages recovered sufficiently to dare to do this.”

Roberts, having seen things only from the viewpoint of Harold William, said, “Itseemed to me that they came out on top without much trouble. No matter what thePrince did.”

The voice of the symbiotic computer held a kind of grim satisfaction. “Theyexpected no trouble from the Prince. They did not win easily. At each unexpectedclash, they only won by a narrow margin. At the Cathedral of Truth, for instance,there were actually nobles who drew their weapons and started forward to obey the

Prince’s command.”

After an instant’s silence, the symbiotic computer added, “The aim of the Regentwas to convince everyone that the Prince was unfit. Instead, there are now contraryrumors of all kinds. There is persistent unrest, and there are many actual witnessesthat the Regent’s claim to the throne is false.”

Roberts smiled and nodded. “Okay. Send the messages. Then we have to findout what’s taking place with the Prince.”



XXIII. The Sailors

« ^ » Harold William, Baron of Scrattel, glanced from the compass to the horizon, then

once again looked at the chart in the old encyclopedia. The deck, if he could call itthat, was moving around continuously underfoot, there was a ceaseless sloshing of water against the hull, and an endlessly repeated splash as buckets of water werepoured overboard. The sails flapped occasionally, but the noise was apparently dueto the motion of the boat, not the wind. The wind had given out shortly after they leftthe island-barony of Scrattel, and they had had to use the engine alone. The enginehad failed shortly after taking them out of sight of Scrattel. As Harold William wasaware, the next thing to give out would probably be the drinking water.

There was a clearing of the throat, and the former guard, who had turned out to

be named Bor, was standing oppressively close in the still, humid air.

Harold William kept his voice level and his tone courteous. “What is it, Bor?”

“It’s the men, Your Lordship.”

There was another splash of water from up forward as another bucket of waterwas dumped over. “What about them?”

“They want to go back, begging your pardon, my lord.”

Harold William glanced back, squinting his eyes against the glare of the sun onthe slight roll of the sea.

“H’m.” He tapped the compass repeatedly and the needle swung around fifteendegrees by small stages.

“Perhaps your eyes are better than mine, Bor. Can you see Scrattel?”

“No, sir. And I haint since yesterday.”

Harold William looked up forward, where Rig Strun and Mak Stran bailedmethodically. By the engine, Dar Strun patiently screwed the single spark plug back

in, stood up, and put his foot on the starting lever. He straightened his leg with aneffort.

Er-er-er-er-er

The engine didn’t catch. The water sloshed and splashed against the hull. Thesun beat down. Splash— another bucket of water went over the side.

Bor was apologetic, “The men, m’lord—they want to go home.”

Harold William left the diluted glare where the worn strip of canvas partly

covered the cockpit in which the warped engine cover had been lifted aside, andstepped out in the full sun.









Up ahead, Rig Strun, gnarled and aged, raised up and shouted, “ Bek ! Canna gun!Nae gut!”

After two days of this, Harold William could laboriously translate the words: “ Back ! Can’t go on! No good!”

But after two days of it, he waited until he reached partial shade cast by thebig—and motionless—sail further aft. Then he crouched, and spoke slowly andcarefully: “Canna gae bed. Need’s rae gut t’find.”

This sounded to Harold William like a clear rendering of “Can’t go back. Needle”the local word for compass “is no good to find.”

But Rig Strun—and also his brawny grandson, Mak, who had paused tolisten—took several minutes for a rapid-fire and incomprehensible exchange of dialect before Rig Strun turned to Harold William, and pointed ahead.

“ Nae thin.” He pointed back, roughly in the direction of the island.

“Smeh. Gae clash, us smeh the Oyl.”

Harold William laboriously translated the first comment into ordinary speech:“No thing.” Rig argued that there was no land ahead.

So much for that. Now, what might “smeh” mean? After a long silent struggle inwhich both Struns resumed bailing, Harold William found a combination that seemedto make sense: “Smell. Go close, us smell the Isle.”

Harold William was laboriously composing a reply when a loud noise made him jump. BANG!

Back by the engine, Dar Strun waved his arms excitedly. BANG!

Bor, at the tiller, shouted to Harold William. “T’needle, m’lord!” BANG!

There was a cool breeze as the boat gathered speed. BANG!

Harold William tapped the needle, and found it was reading true. BANG!

With that vibration, there was no need to tap the needle. BANG!

The boat nearly cleaved the calm water. A wake showed up behind it. BANG!

Harold William pointed slightly to the north. Bor turned the tiller a fraction. Theboat heeled slightly, swung a little northward.

Behind them, the wake stretched out. Dar Strun, listening anxiously to thedeafening bang, nodded enthusiastically, and took hold of the warped cover.BANG!

Bor shouted, “Tiller, m’lord. I’ll help Dar!” Harold William held the tiller steady.Bor sprang forward to help with the engine cover. BANG!



The wake seemed now to stretch out to the horizon. Rig and Mak Strun began totake in the useless sails. BANG!

Bor and Dar lowered the engine cover. Rig pulled back a small lever that startedthe bilge pump. BAM!

Faintly muffled by the engine cover, the noise was still an assault on the ears anda delight at the same time. BAM!

Harold William, expecting some argument in favor of going back, saw withastonishment Rig, Mak, and Dar go forward to the bow, and stand there beaming.Rig and Mak enthusiastically banged Dar on the back. BAM!

Harold William turned in bafflement to Bor, who grinned, and shouted: “Theworld is different when your engine works!”

Harold William nodded, beamed, looked ahead, and then checked the compass.Suddenly he looked up again, and peered intently forward. Dimly, on the horizon, hecould see a low dark line.

XXIV. The Rivals

« ^

»

Vaughan Roberts, keeping his muscles relaxed with an effort, watched the spyscreen that was set up in the forward part of the patrol ship, on the upward-warpeddeck over the missile bay. On the screen, Duke Marius smiled at Princess Erena, andthe Regent’s smile had improved of late. It had less of a sickly cast, and was muchmore a smile than a grimace. Roberts intently disliked this smile.

“You must understand, Erena,” said the Regent, “that what I have done, I havedone for our country.”

Erena looked away, and said nothing. Roberts breathed a little more easily.

“I have,” said the Regent, “become King to free Festhold of outwornsuperstition, and to bring the dawn of a new age to this outmoded land.”

Princess Erena said quietly, “Superstition is undesirable because it is false, notbecause it is outmoded. Truth is never outmoded.”

The Regent frowned, then suddenly laughed.

“Erena?”

She looked at him.

He said, “It is a proved scientific fact that ‘acquired characteristics cannot be









inherited.’ Were you aware of that?”

She frowned. “I leave such things to men. All I know of science is that it isuseful, and it is dangerous.”

He nodded, still watching her with a smile. It was a smile that transformed his

face, and Roberts growled, “Where’s the Prince?”

Morrissey said, “His boat landed about two hours ago.”

“Where is he now?”

“We’ve got a poor view through that forest. The last we saw, he was on a dirtroad headed west.” Roberts growled exasperatedly.

On the screen, the Regent was saying, “Since acquired traits cannot be inherited,your family must have experienced a mutation of the logical faculty in the past. In

your father and your brothers, it had a terrible effect. In you, this logical insightis”—he smiled—“charming. There is not one woman in twenty thousand who hasit.”

Erena said stiffly, “Thank you for reminding me of my father and brothers.”

“Erena,” he said earnestly, “I faithfully served your father, and was as stunned bythe misfortunes of your brothers as anyone could have been. The error of yourlogical faculty is that it jumps too soon to the belief in cause and effect. Yes, by yourfamily’s ill-fortune, I have profited. But I profit only for the benefit of the nation

itself. The universe is ruled as much by pure chance as by this cause and effect youassume. You unfairly slander me by believing that where I profit, it is because I havesought profit. Have you seen, yourself , that what I say is false?”

She hesitated.

Roberts straightened, and banged his head on the three-foot-thick mirror-likecylinder than ran down the axis of the ship.

On the screen, the Regent said earnestly, “I could not love you if I did not loveall your family, Erena. The woman has the same genes, the same chromosomes—is

the same thing— with but a slight change, an insignificant alteration on onechromosome. But in you—”

Roberts snarled, “Bergen!”

Dan Bergen, further aft, in the control seat, said, “Sir ?”

“Find out from the symbiotic computer if we can continue to avoid detectionwhile we camouflage the ship’s hull. Or will the camouflage interfere, and make usvisible to their detectors?”

There followed a low exchange between Bergen and the symbiotic computer,drowned out for Roberts by the Regent’s impassioned plea to Erena, forunderstanding. Behind Roberts, Hammell said absently, “You know, the guy’s sort



of convincing, at that.”

Roberts bit off the reply that came to him, and then Bergen called, “We can do it,but why?”

On the screen, the Regent took Erena’s hand. Erena withdrew her hand, but

slowly, her expression thoughtful. The Regent’s eyes flashed, and his smilebroadened.

Roberts turned and banged Hammell accidentally. He snarled, “Excuse me,” andwent back to the control seat. Bergen started to get up, but Roberts put a hand onhis shoulder.

The voice of the symbiotic computer spoke from a little grille to the left of theexternal viewscreen. “Effective non-detectability may be maintained during and afternormal alteration of the ship’s appearance. Why should we do this, however?”

“The Regent of Festhold—”

“Correction, this is now Duke Marius. The Regent of Festhold has brokennumerous laws, and betrayed his trust. His regency officially ended with the firstbetrayal of his trust.”

“As far as the population of Festhold knows, he is now not only Regent butKing!”

“The population is not informed.”

“All right. The Re—”

“Duke Marius.”

Roberts waited a moment, until his head cleared, then said carefully, “DukeMarius is trying to win Princess Erena over to him. If he can do that, and if shemarries him, then to a large part of the population his position will be legitimized.The followers of Harold William’s family will be split.”

There was a brief silence. The voice of the symbiotic computer said, “This is at

least partly correct.”“Moreover, such a marriage might badly damage Harold William’s confidence.

He could see it as meaning that his own sister had betrayed him.”

“This appears to be true.” The symbiotic computer hesitated, “This probabilitythat the Princess will mate with Duke Marius is what?”

Roberts said carefully, “I don’t know. And the word isn’t ‘mate’, but ‘marry.’ ”

“Another opinion on this subject might be advisable.”

Roberts snarled, “Hammell!”

Hammell jumped. “Sir?”



“The symbiotic computer wants your opinion.”

“What’s the question?”

The voice was louder, and now came from somewhere overhead, about half-waybetween Roberts and Hammell. “The probability that the Princess Erena will marry

with the Duke Marius is, namely:—What ?” Hammell looked blank, then grinned. “Noman could answer that question. With women, how can you tell?”

“This is prejudice.”

“No,” said Hammell, “that’s not it. Men often marry women that other womenregard as unworthy, and the same holds for women marrying men that other mendislike. These marriages are influenced by—ah—how do I explain—the attraction

between men and women. And a man, not being a woman, can’t judge the strengthof the attraction another man has on a woman. So I can’t tell you what chance there

is that Erena will marry him.”

The symbiotic computer was silent. Roberts, frowning in thought, decided to trya new tack. “The Patrol is low on personnel.”

“This is correct. However, what connection—?”

“Princess Erena is a candidate-member of the Interstellar Patrol. If she marriesDuke Marius, who has broken his trust, won’t that disqualify her?”

There was another brief silence. “That is also correct.”

“So there are several reasons to prevent the marriage.”

“How do you intend to do this?”

“On Tiamaz, Princess Erena appeared to—that is, to some extent, sheseemed—” Roberts hesitated.

The symbiotic computer prompted him: “She seemed to wish to mate with youinstead of with Duke Marius?”

Hammell grinned. Bergen beat his head, and shook silently. From overhead,

Morrissey, holding a wrench, leaned down grinning to look at Roberts’ expression.Roberts drew a breath of air, and said carefully, “There seemed to be someattraction.”

“Then,” said the symbiotic computer, “if you were closer, this attraction mightdraw the Princess away from Duke Marius? This seems logical.”

Roberts said exasperatedly, “Now that we’ve got that out of the way—”

The symbiotic computer cut him off. “The plan is specifically what?”

“To put a strain on Duke Marius’ arrangements, take up his time, try to keep himfrom making headway with Princess Erena—and allow some time to get the Prince



and the Royal Guard here.”

“How is this to be done?”

“Duke Marius is now formally the Chief of State of Festhold?”


“And the Chief of State has to welcome exalted visitors or give offense. Isn’tthat right?”

“It is, if the visitors are sufficiently exalted.”

“In the past, Hammell, Morrissey, and I have played the parts of some veryexalted—ah—visitors. If we drop in on Duke Marius now, we ought to be able to tiehim in knots.”

The symbiotic computer suddenly sounded almost friendly. “This is an excellentidea. The camouflage will be emplaced at once.”

XXV. The Sovereigns’ League

« ^ »

Marius, Duke of Rennel, Earl of Estmaertz, known to some as His Highness theRegent, to others as His Majesty the King, and to still others by shorter and lesscourteous titles—Marius turned from Princess Erena to the door. “Who is it ?”

Princess Erena stood up and faced the door.

“Colonel du Berrin, Your Highness.”

“Come in, Colonel.” The Regent turned to Princess Erena. “Pardon me, mydear.”

Princess Erena inclined her head, and stayed where she was.The door opened, to admit a well built noblemen in the uniform of a colonel of

mountain troops, who bowed to Princess Erena, then turned to the Regent.

“Your Highness, we have an exasperating little contretemps to contend with.”

The Regent frowned. “What has happened?”

“The Baron of Scrattel has landed on the mainland.”

The Princess straightened, her eyes glanced quickly at the Regent, then she

clasped her hands and stood intently silent. The Regent stiffened.

“Impossible. That backwater had no way out. Moreover, he was left guarded,









and, in fact—” The Regent suddenly glanced at Erena, and stopped in mid-sentence.“Even the reports,” he began again, “on his welfare and progress were to be pickedup periodically by armed courier-boats. He could not escape.”

Colonel du Berrin said apologetically, “Nevertheless, Sir, we have the report. It

seems that he came ashore in an antiquated boat used for local fishing by thegoodfolk of Scrattel. He landed with several followers, and set out on the ring road,which in this locality is unimproved. On the way, they met a regiment of the ImperialDivision, headed east to embark for the Outer Defense Command.”

“What happened?”

“The Baron drew his sword, and saluted the regimental standard. The regimentalcommander apparently noticed the way the baron handled his steel, and called out tolearn his name.”

“And—”

“The Baron replied, ‘Baron of Scrattel.’ ”

“Then what?”

“The regiment cheered, the standard-bearer dipped the standard, and theregimental commander saluted.”

“The standard can only be dipped to the sovereign.”

“I know it, Sir. I only repeat what was reported to us by the local Chief of Constabulary, who had it from one of his men.”

“These people are reliable?”

“The Chief of Constabulary is. I can’t vouch for his men, but apparently hedoes.”

“And what did the Baron of Scrattel do?”

“Waved, and went on his way.”

The Regent slowly relaxed. Colonel du Berrin said hesitantly, “Your Highnessknows that the Imperial Division was second only to the Royal Guard in its devotionto the Royal Family.”

“I am aware of it. Where is the rest of this division?

“Strung out along the ring road on the way to the embarcation point.”

“On foot?”

“Yes, Sir. Due to the—the unrest—they hadn’t had time for their monthly training

march, and are taking it en route.”“So there are other regiments of this division coming along on this road?”



“Yes, Sir.”

“The Baron of Scrattel will meet them one-by-one?”

“Under normal circumstances, Sir—yes, he will.”

“What have you done about this?”

“Reported it to you at once, Sir.”

The Regent frowned, glanced briefly at Erena standing straight and silent. Thenhis brows came together in a straight black line, he put his hand on the colonel’sarm, as if to guide him outside. There was a harsh rap at the door.

The Regent called, “Who is it?”

“Captain Stang, Sir. Urgent message for Colonel du Berrin.”

“Come in!”

A burly young captain came in, went straight to Colonel du Berrin, clicked hisheels, saluted, and held out a long strip of yellow message paper unevenly torn at thetop. The colonel took the paper, stared at it, then at the captain, and a fastlow-voiced exchange followed. The colonel delivered himself of a choice epithet,turned to the Regent, saw Princess Erena, apologized, and again faced the Regent.

“Sir, I regret—”

“ Now what? Has Baron Scrattel—”

“No, Sir. This has to do with—to begin—His Royal and Imperial Majesty,Vaughan the First, surnamed The Terrible—” The colonel glanced at the messagepaper—“Also, with His Royal Excellence, Rasgarrd Seraak. Adjunct-Coordinate tothe Empire, Galactic East. Next, Prince Gdazzrik of the March, Imperial Hoheit of the Imperium of Schnarzz.”

“Who the devil—” began the Regent, then paused, turned to Erena, and bowed.“I beg your pardon, my dear.”

Colonel du Berrin went on, “Last we have His Imperial Majesty, Sarkonnian theSecond, Lord Auxiliary of the Realm to the West.”

“Well, what has all this—”

“These—”

“I never heard of any of them!”

Colonel du Berrin turned to the captain. “Have you identified these individuals?”

“The first—yes, sir.”

The Regent said, “Which one was that?”



“His Royal and Imperial Majesty, Vaughan the First.” The captain hesitated andfelt his pockets.

“Well,” said Colonel du Berrin impatiently. “Let’s have it.”

“I took the liberty of running the reference through the duplicator—ah, here we

are!”

The captain took from a pocket of his tunic a large sheet of paper, which hemethodically unfolded. He cleared his throat.

“ ‘Eminent Personages,’ latest edition—let’s see—here it is: ‘Vaughan the First,also known as Duke of Trasimere; the Duke Vaughan. Full title: Vaughan the First,King and Emperor, Duke of Trasimere, Earl of Aurizont; surnamed: The Terrible.For associates, see: Personages of Paradise. Also: H.I.H. Ewald, Duke of Greme;H.I.H., Percy, Duke of Malafont; also: Oggbad, Prince of the Empire, Premier Peer

of the Kingdom, High Master of the Unseen Realms. See also: The Empire;Earldom-designate of Paradise, Imperial Trasimere; Paradise; Boschock III;Flanders Foundation …’ ”

The Regent said, “Seems well documented. This was in ‘Eminent Personages?’ ”

“Yes, sir.”

Colonel du Berrin said, “Cut out the nonessentials and let’s have the meat of this.”

“Yes, sir. Here we are: ‘By force, Duke Vaughan then seized the Chief of Planet(see Glinderen, Philip W.), personally executed a Mr. Peen and one unnamedassociate (see Krojac, Nels), and …’ ”

Colonel du Barren said exasperatedly, “Let’s have that.” He took the sheet of paper, scanned it thoughtfully, then slowly read: “Vaughan the First, Full title, Kingand Emperor, Duke of Trasimere, Earl of Aurizont; surnamed The Terrible.

“Vaughan’s claim to be the Sovereign of a large and formidable interstellarempire is backed by the now-known facts that:

“1) This personage appeared off the planet Boschock III, commonly andironically called—because of the conditions on the planet—‘Paradise,’ and seizedcontrol of the Planetary government. He then organized the defense of Paradise Cityagainst an attack by an entity named Oggbad. After defeating Oggbad, word reachedVaughan that he had been chosen ruler of The Empire.

“2) On Vaughan’s departure, this planet, which was then a member of theFederation of Humanity, was placed by the Federation under the administrativecontrol of P. W. Glinderen as Chief of Planet. Glinderen attempted to arrestVaughan upon Vaughan’s return. When Vaughan instead arrested Glinderen,

Glinderen sent for the Space Force. Vaughan nevertheless dismissed Glinderen, andreestablished personal rule over the planet.



“3) A large force of planetary raiders, believed to be under the leadership of Maury (q.v.) attacked the planet, and were severely mauled by Vaughan’s warshipand the reinforced Planetary defenses. The raiders withdrew on the approach of theSpace Force fleet sent for by P. W. Glinderen, Chief of Planet.

“4) Vaughan’s own space fleet now began to arrive, backed up by a sizable forcecontaining at least one warship corresponding to the superdreadnought class.Vaughan faced the approaching Space Force fleet, and compelled it to withdraw.

“5) Although Vaughan is not known to have returned to Paradise, the planet isgoverned strictly in accordance with his regulations, by duly appointed noblespreviously chosen by him personally. This planet has become a formidable power inits section of space.

“The conclusion appears inescapable that Vaughan is the ruler of a large,formidable, but distant empire. Rumor holds that special navigating devices arerequired to reach these remote regions.

“Alternative theories for Vaughan’s actions and evident powers have beenadvanced, including the thesis that this was an operation carried out by thesemi-clandestine Interstellar Patrol; but this is believed to be merely a cover toexplain away the backing down of the Federation Space Force before the ImperialFleet.

“Vaughan’s rank is provisionally rated as being formally equal to thatof—say—the President of the Elective Council of the Federation of Humanity. In

reality, Vaughan appears to exercise personal control over a powerful Empire whoseactual size, however, we cannot accurately estimate. We can only rate him as a Chief of State of the first rank.” The colonel lowered the paper.

“H’m,” said the Regent. “What about these others—there was a—ah—AdjunctCoordinator, or some such thing—”

“Yes, sir. I didn’t take time to look them up.”

“Well?” said the Regent. “Now we know who one of them is, at any rate. Butwhat is it all about?”

The colonel glanced at the captain. The captain said uneasily, “Sir, they’recoming for a visit.”

“What—now?”

“Yes, sir.”

“When?”

“This afternoon.”

The colonel swore. The Regent delivered himself of a sizzling oath. The coloneland the Regent then both turned and apologized to Erena. Erena, smiling faintly,



accepted the apologies.

“This is,” said the colonel, “a highly inconvenient time. We’ve got the coronationcoming up shortly. The Baron of Scrattel is loose on the coast. The—”

“What?” said the captain. He glanced quickly at the Regent. “The Baron of—”

“Scrattel,” snarled the colonel. “And the whole damned ImperialDivision—Pardon me, Princess—is on the same road. On top of that, the RoyalGuard has disappeared from the plot somewhere out at the rim, and we think thedamned—I beg your Pardon, Your Highness—Stath have got away with an encoder.Everything is up in the air. The last thing we need is this collection of potentates—”

“Begging your pardon, sir,” said the captain stubbornly, “they didn’t offer us agreat deal of choice.” He read aloud from the message form:

“…PURSUANT TO OUR MESSAGES NUMBER 106 AND 107: WE THEEXECUTIVE COUNCIL OF THE LEAGUE OF SOVEREIGN STATES AGAINOUR ROYAL WILL TO END THIS PLAGUE IF NEEDS WE MUST BYBLOOD AND STEEL…”

The Regent said angrily, “What Messages 106 and 107?”

The captain shrugged. “We never got them, Sir. But they don’t know that. Thenthere’s this passage:

“…THE COMBINED IMPERIAL FLEETS OF THE LEAGUE WILL IF WE

SO COMMAND LEND FORCE TO OUR PREVIOUS MILD REQUEST…”

The colonel swallowed and looked at the ceiling. “This is a poor time for it.We’ve already got the Stath stuck crossways of our jaws. The last cut in fleetstrength—”

“Silence!” snapped the Regent. “Let’s see that message!” He read the messageintently, then looked up.

“Have you replied to this?”

“No, Sir,” said the captain. “I didn’t even know who they were. I just looked upKing Vaughan, and then got up here fast.”

“All right. Send: ‘I shall be delighted to welcome Vaughan, Rasgarrd, Gdazzrik,and Sarkonnian to the Kingdom of Festhold. But I must warn that my forces, nowpartly engaged in combat with the Stath Confederacy, may be even more heavilyengaged in the near future. If peace cannot be arranged with this opponent, I willhave little to spare for joint ventures with my fellow sovereigns. If, however, you willsend copies of your messages number 106 and 107, which have not reached us, wewill examine them at once.’ Sign it ‘Marius,’ and send it out.”

“Yes, sir.”

As the captain turned to go, there was another pounding of fists on the door. “



Who is it now?” roared the Regent.

“Lieutenant Ritts, Sir. To see Captain Stang!”

“Come in!”

Stang said urgently, “What is it, Ritts?”

“The League ship, sir! They’re small, and even closer than we thought. Coveredwith gold and platinum, sir, and they bristle with fusion guns. There’s a fleet of prelaunched missiles apparently fed off beamed power from the ship. I hope I didright to give them landing permission, sir. They were pretty short about it.”

“What?—you talked to them direct? What language—”

“Standard Terran, sir. It was all clear enough, but they’ve got a different way of putting things, and—”

“And you told them to land?”

“It was either that or war!”

The captain stepped back and turned to the colonel. The colonel let his breathout and looked at the Regent. The Regent put his hand to his head, then nodded.“All right, get an honor guard out—”

“Sir, they came down at the Old Palace field—Western Imperial Space Facility.”

“What ?”

The colonel snarled, “For God’s sake! We haven’t used that in—” His faceblanked, and he bowed to Erena. “I beg your pardon, Your Highness.” He glancedback at the lieutenant, and his face grew congested. “Listen, did you—”

“I tried to get them into a temporary holding pattern, sir. We’ve got militarytraffic over Capital Spaceport six deep. Before I could get through to the SlotController at Capital, one of these monsters got impatient—”

The Regent said, “ Monsters?”

“They were transmitting with vision, sir. One of these creatures looks likea—some kind of shark—crossed with a giant squid. That doesn’t cover it, but itgives you an idea. And he said something like, ‘Durst these poltroons treat us toanother delay?’ and the one that looked human said, ‘Let it not disturb us. There is asuitable field.’ That’s when they headed for Old Palace.”

“You had already given landing permission?”

“Yes, sir. But I had requested that they hold off until we could fit them in.”

The Regent said abruptly. “Colonel du Berrin, I trust you to see to it that theBaron of Scrattel is transported back to his island—unhurt, if possible. I will takecare of these foreign guests, myself. Captain!”



“Just about sixty-five and one-half feet from the Baron of Scrattel, sir, accordingto the escort boat following them down.”

The Regent shut his eyes, the colonel swallowed hard, and the captain barked,“Well, don’t stop there! Then what? What happened then?”

The sergeant said blandly, “Why, I dunno, sir. I left just then, sir. I figured you’dwant to hear about it, sir.”

XXVI. The Warlord’s Army

« ^

»

Roberts was first out of the ship, wearing battle armor that blazed in silver and gold,the peak of his helmet adorned with a tapering spire, a coat of arms flashing on hisbreastplate.

Harold William, Baron of Scrattel, put out a hand to hold back his two roughcompanions, and advanced over the dirt. A little dust still drifted past from the feetof the regiment that had just marched by.

Roberts spoke, and his voice was amplified by the armor: “Is this, then, theKingdom of Festhold?”

Harold William, whose voice needed no amplifier, spoke in the carrying tone of finality Roberts was so used to hearing: “This is Festhold. Who are you?”

Up the road, the regiment was becoming aware that something was taking placebehind it. The shouts of officers and the shrill blasts of signal whistles split the air.

Roberts said, his voice carrying, “In this region of space, I am nothing but avisitor. Elsewhere, there are those who call me king. My name is Vaughan. And whomight you be?”

Harold William laughed, “Here, there are those who call me king, and others whosay I am the lowest noble in the realm. We are, it seems, well matched. My name isHarold.”

Roberts advanced, his armored hand outstretched.

“Welcome, Harold to the League of Sovereigns! Fear not the grip of this ironfist—I’ll leave my hand relaxed—I am here with some friends seeking wrongs toright—a royal diversion—and the white-livered poltroons of yon city durst ignoremy first two messages. Bedamned with them! The plague of unchallenged evil is

spreading over this whole realm of space. Are we of the Empire to let it creep slowlyupon us unchallenged? Or should we seek it out, smash its skull and rip its limbsapart ‘ere it breeds fresh troubles? What think you, Harold?”









are head of a foreign power, you can demand to see Duke Marius. Only keep himaway from controlling the levers of power for an hour or so, and I will turn thisworld upside down and dump him out of it!”

Roberts said, “I can give you armor—”

“Thank you, Vaughan, but keep the armor. The troops have to recognize me. Icould kill them by the hundreds and never win. But let me talk to any true warrior of Festhold for one minute, and I will end the hold of this false Duke who serves asRegent—only just keep the Regent occupied! He can’t fight, but he is a genius attrickery!”

Roberts growled, “I’ll do my best.” He raised his voice. “Then I’ll do as yousuggest, Warlord! Good luck!”

The troops, meanwhile, had followed the gesture of Harold William, seen the

coming transports, and the officers had exchanged a few words. Now, the blast of signal whistles cut through the din of the approaching aircraft.

As Roberts waved briefly to Harold William before dropping into the ship, thetroops spread out. The standard bearer ran up to plant the regimental standardbeside Harold William. The regimental commander spoke into a handset, then stood,hands clasped, directly behind the Prince. Out of the center of the column of fast-dispersing troops glided a monster fusion cannon, apparently moving onantigravs, which settled down beside the standard, elevated its blunt muzzle, andwith short sharp motions shifted from target to target amongst the approaching boxy

aircraft. Along the road, in either direction, low clouds of dust spread out, andindistinct blobs began to resolve themselves into fast-moving tanks and gun-carriers.

Roberts settled into the control seat, carefully took the controls with his armoredhand, slowly lifted the ship, and aimed its prow directly at the airborne troopcarriers. Moving slowly, he headed directly amongst them, and watched on theoutside viewscreen.

The screen presented him with a view taken from one of the prelaunched missilesthat floated apart from the patrol ship, and that added a special flavor to the

experience of the troops in the transports; the missiles, most of them being slim, andsuggestive of the gigantic power let loose in interstellar wars, floated over, under,and through the formations of lightly armored transports. One of them, as if giving apointed hint, lingered behind the rest, floated protectively above Harold William, thenslowly passed directly through the formation of transports filled with nervouslysweating troops. The patrol ship itself, flashing in accents of gold, silver, andplatinum, emblazoned with dazzling coats of arms, moved daintily in the center of this armada of destruction. The eyes of the troops, nervously squinted against thedull glint of the slowly drifting missiles, turned their heads to be blinded by theblazing flash of silver and gold.

Meanwhile, the officers of the airlifted regiment, glancing alternately at the fusioncannon beside Harold William, his obviously loyal troops already spread out and



under cover, the clouds of dust from reinforcements fast approaching from up anddown the road, the standard beside him glittering with battle stars, andthen—glancing up backwards over their shoulders at a drifting interstellar missilesuggestively lingering on the scene—these officers were not in the best frame of mind to carry out the order they had just been given:

“Seize by force the false pretender incorrectly known as Harold William, Princeof Festhold—who is actually the insane Baron of Scrattel—and return this lunaticbaron to the island of Scrattel, unhurt if conditions permit.”

While the men sweated and the officers uneasily glanced at each other, a clearcompelling voice rose to greet them. It was a voice that carried, and that seemed toring in the air: “Soldiers of the Capital Division! We see and recognize your emblem!We see it ringed with stars for battles you have fought for king and country! Willyou still fight for the Realm? Do your swords and guns still belong to the Rulers and

Warlords who have led you in a hundred battles for Right and Justice? Will you stillrally to the Warlord of Festhold when his voice calls to you?

“Or are you held in chains by the false regicide who calls himself the ‘Regent’ of Festhold?—He who has killed your King—who has arranged ‘accidents’ for yourKing’s sons, he who tries now to disinherit the last of the line of Festhold!

“Men of the Capital Division! I have defeated this false traitor in combatman-to-man! I have defeated him in fair and open war against the odds of heavynumbers! I have demanded the surrender of this so-called Regent at the point of sword and gun, and received it! Twice I have spared his life! And twice he has paidhis debt with treachery!

“No regicide, no traitor, no liar, however clever, can rule over Festhold! Such acreature has no power to command any warrior of Festhold! You have no duty tothis lying murderous tyrant! Your duty is to the Warlord of Festhold! I am nowgoing to throw this dog from the throne! Warriors of the Capital Division! Are you

with me?”

Roberts, watching the outside viewscreen, could see the soldiers in the hoveringtransports seem to go crazy. They yelled, banged each other the back, waved their

weapons in the air, and shouted: “Long live the Warlord of Festhold!”

The regimental officers were beaming, and the commander turned to give hisorders. His transport separated from the others, and sank to the ground. Thecommander stepped out, approached the Warlord of Festhold, and saluted.

Watching the screen, Roberts relaxed. “Now he’s got an army … Morrissey!”

Toward the bow of the patrol boat, where the deck warped up over the missilebay, a thing turned that looked like a muscular sea horse in an armored tank.

“Sir?” said Morrissey’s voice.

“Does the spy-screen show us anything about the Regent?”



“Yes, sir. He’s just entering his Command Center with a colonel, a captain, alieutenant, a sergeant, and a corporal.”

“Fine. We’ve been neglecting the Regent. Now’s the time to send a message.”

XXVII. A Rough Day at the Com Center

« ^ » Yes, sir,” Lance Corporal Zarn reported, “the command went out exactly as youcalled it in, sir. Third Regiment of the Capital Division went right out to nail theboozer to the wall, sir.”

“Good,” said Captain Stang.

Colonel du Berrin snarled, “I’ll thank you, Lance Corporal, not to refer to anobleman, however low, as ‘the boozer.’ This is the kind of practice that promotesconfusion. Refer to him by name or title.”

“The Baron of Scrattel, sir.”

“That’s better. All right, what reports have we on it?”

“Sir, I’ve been doing three men’s work here, and there’s some kind of

confusion, because we’ve got a message from a General Harmer, to the effect thathe will comply with the Regent’s order concerning the Royal Guard.”

The Regent said, “What about that ship of the Sovereign’s League?”

“Private Beckel has been following that, sir.”

A worn-looking individual, rushing nervously from one message-machine toanother, said, “They took off, sir.”

“With or without the Baron of Scrattel?”

“Without, Sir.”

“Scrattel stayed on the ground?”

“Yes, Sir.”

“Has the Capital Division gotten there?”

“Yes, sir. Regiment 3 CD got there just as the Sovereign League ship took of.”

“Good, good. What does the Regiment report?”

“Nothing direct as yet, sir. We had a report from a boat that trailed them out fromthe spaceport. Just as it started back, sir, it reported that the regimental commander









was approaching Baron Scrattel.”

Colonel du Berrin looked approving. The Regent nodded. “All right. Then that’sunder control.”

Lance Corporal Zarn spoke up stubbornly, “Begging your pardon, Sir. There’s

some confusion somewhere in this message from General Harmer, sir.” The Regentfrowned at the lance corporal as if he were a form of peculiar insect.

Colonel du Berrin said drily, “Pray enlighten us, Lance Corporal.”

“Yes, sir. General Harmer only took over this morning. We just got the deathnotice on General du Streck.”

Private Beckel spoke up knowledgeably, “Head blowed off by an air-drop driftermine. Begging your pardons, sirs.”

Colonel du Berrin’s brows came together. He and Captain Strang turned at thesame time toward the private; but at the apologetic ending of the private’s remarks,they turned away again.

Lance Corporal Zarn said, “General du Streck already acknowledged the orderabout the Royal Guard, sir. Yesterday.”

Colonel du Berrin frowned. “It is odd that Harmer should acknowledge it.”

Colonel du Berrin thought a moment, and shook his head. “Du Streck’sacknowledgment would have been clamped to the original message, and our coded‘Ack Received’ response would have been clipped to the back of theacknowledgement itself.”

The Regent said, “I still don’t see what harm the extra acknowledgement does.”

The Lance Corporal glanced at Colonel du Berrin. The colonel uneasily clearedhis throat. “I think, sir, that what we have here is the possibility of a second order tothe Royal Guard. General du Streck acknowledged the first order—the order weknow about, because we sent it. Now General Harmer acknowledges a second

order.”

The Regent looked sharply at Colonel du Berrin, then glanced intently at theLance Corporal, who nodded. “Yes, sir. Because with standard MR routine, Sir,they wouldn’t acknowledge twice— unless they’d been shot up, Sir, and we’ve gotno word about that. This acknowledgement just fit right in, Sir, so it looks like—”

Private Beckel was still rushing from machine to machine as the various officersand noncoms delayed returning to their machines in order the better to hear what wasgoing on. Private Beckel suddenly paused. There was the twice repeated sound of ripping paper.

“From the Sovereign’s League, Sir! And here’s one from the watch ship, sir!Watch ship reports the Sovereign’s League ship headed for Capital at low elevation



and high speed. The Sovereign’s League says—I guess you’ll want to read that foryourself, Sir.”

The Regent took the paper from Private Beckel, to skip the heading, and read:

WE VAUGHAN RASGAARD GDAZZRIK AND SARKONNIIAN ACCEPTWHOLEHEARTEDLY YOUR GRACIOUS WELCOME TO THE KINGDOMOF FESTHOLD.SUBSTANCE OF OUR MESSAGES 106 AND 107HEREWITH BEGINS 106WE THE COMBINED RULERS OF THE LEAGUE OF SOVEREIGNS BEINGDETERMINED TO STAMP OUT THE LICENTIOUS WAYS OF ILLORDERED OUTSPACE REALMS ERE BY THEIR EXAMPLE THEYCONTAMINATE OUR OWN KINGDOMS

WE HEREBY CALL UPON THE RIGHTFUL SOVEREIGN OF FESTHOLD TOJOIN WITH US IN CRUSHING THIS FOUL EVIL106 ENDS107 BEGINSWE HAVE RECEIVED NO REPLY TO OUR MESSAGE 106WE REPEAT OUR CALL TO YOU TO JOIN USDO NOT FEAR TO JOIN WITH USWE ARE TRAVELING AS BEFITS LEADERS IN ADVANCE OF OUR MAINFORCES IN HOPE TO TEMPT SOME FOUL PIRATE OR OTHER DOG TOATTACK US BUT OUR GUARD FORCE COMES CLOSE BEHIND TOSHARE IN THE KILL AS WE REND THESE VERMIN AND BEHIND THEGUARD FORCE COMES THE COMBINED FLEETS OF THE IMPERIALVENGEANCE FORCE IN HOPES WE CAN SCARE THESE WHELPS INTOJOINING TOGETHER—AND KILL THE LOTWE DO NOT OUT OF WEAKNESS CALL TO YOU FOR AID OR SUPPORTWE ASK INSTEAD THAT YOU JOIN IN CLEARING OUT THESE RATS ASFARMERS RIP UP SPREADING WEEDS FROM THEIR ADJOINING FIELDSJOIN WITH US NOW THAT WE MAY KNOW YOU ARE FOR AND NOTAGAINST US

107 ENDSKNOW NOW THAT HIS ROYAL AND IMPERIAL MAJESTY HAS HIMSELFBEEN ATTACKED BY THESE PIRATES AND HIS SUBJECTS HAVE BEENCAPTURED BY THEMKNOW THAT HIS ROYAL EXCELLENCE HIS IMPERIAL HIGHNESS ANDHIS IMPERIAL HOHEIT HAVE BEEN TEMPORARILY CAPTURED BYALIEN ENTITIES WHO INFEST THE OUTSPACE REGIONSWE KNOW WELL HOW TO DEAL WITH SUCH AS THESE AND WE NOWAGAIN CALL UPON YOU TO JOIN US

The Regent handed the message to Colonel du Berrin, who read rapidly, lookedup, and nodded. “It’s these damned commerce raiders, Sir. The Federation is thick



with them, and we aren’t perfect ourselves.”

“What’s this about ‘alien entities?’ ”

“No doubt the Stath—or possibly some Crustaxans. If these kings ran into themacross the Federation boundary—Which bunch is worse, I don’t know.”

“Have we actually seen any of these other warships?”

“No, sir. But evidently they’re relying on concealment to trap the commerceraiders.”

“Then,” said the Regent, “these monarchs are completely alone now? Do Iunderstand that?”

Colonel du Berrin looked puzzled. “Yes, sir. They’re alone, as I understandit—running ahead of the main forces.”

The Regent nodded. “Send another message of welcome. And since their ship issmall, bring them down in the Royal Park. Have another regiment of the CapitalDivision there to welcome them.”

“Sir, as I read these messages, only you can welcome them, without danger of giving offense. And let me respectfully point out, successful camouflage in space isevidence of high technological capability. I make no claim to understand thesituation, but it is plainly filled with uncertainties and dangers.”

Lance Corporal Zarn said respectfully, “General Harmer’s acknowledgement—”

Private Beckel tore off another sheet of paper. “Sir, they’re coming down in theterrace of the City Palace.”

Colonel du Berrin glanced around, and suddenly roared, “What the devil are youall standing around for? Do you want the private to do all the work here? Get back to

your posts!” The corporal, the sergeant, the lieutenant, and the captain sprang to theirseparate machines. Private Beckel said, “Another message here, sir. From the InnerDefense Sphere commander. He says ‘IDS drone massometer probes indicatepresence of masses unaccounted for by any charted natural objects or known

derelicts, or otherwise-detectable ships.’ ”

“Sir,” said Captain Stang in an odd voice, “we have here a routine duplicate of acommunications order—Divisional airborne transport to report to Positions XK9-.2on the ring road, to pick up the Imperial Division.”

“Well,” said Colonel du Berrin, “that’s unusual, but—”

“Sir,—it’s signed ‘By authority of Harold William, Warlord of Festhold!’ ” TheRegent, turning to leave, spun on his heel.

Lance Corporal Zarn’s machine chattered, and he said, “I knew it! There’s beena slip-up somewhere! Sir, here’s a message from Lieutenant-Colonel Stran duMorgan, Second-In-Command, the Royal guard! He’s skipping the landing pattern



entirely, and coming down in the Royal Park!—I don’t understand this, sir. At theend of the message, it says: ‘Death to traitors! Long live the Warlord!’ ” Colonel duBerrin stood motionless.

The Regent said, “Alert the Parashock Division!”

“Sir,” said Colonel du Berrin, “the Parashock Division is in the Outer DefenseCommand. They were unreliable.”

Sergeant Ayn, his voice toneless, dry, noncommittal, said aloud:

“ ‘General Order Number One. By Authority of Harold William, Warlord of Festhold. To all Units Festhold Armed Forces.

“ ‘1) As of the time of receipt of this General Order, the governing authority of the former Regent, Marius, Duke of Rennel, is summarily ended, by command of theWarlord.

“ ‘2) All lawful governing authority within the Realm of Festhold will henceforthemanate directly from Harold William, Warlord of Festhold, and from the dulyconstituted organs of government.’

“ ‘3) The said Marius, Duke of Rennel, is hereby stripped of all command powerover any and all men and officers, commissioned and noncommissioned, of whatever rank, unit, or duty, wherever situated, either within the Realm of Festhold,or in its conquered or occupied districts.

“ ‘4) The said Marius is believed to be allied to alien forces opposed to thewell-being of our Realm.

“ ‘5) Whosoever obeys the orders of the aforesaid Marius does so in defiance of the direct command of the Warlord, and at the peril of his life.

“ ‘By authority of

“ ‘Harold William

“ ‘Warlord of Festhold’ ”

Duke Marius stood as if paralyzed, then glanced at Colonel du Berrin, as if to seehis reaction. Colonel du Berrin, without meeting this questioning gaze, moved a littleaway from Duke Marius. Duke Marius instantly noted the colonel’s reaction, relaxedwith an effort, and laughed.

“The Baron of Scrattel is as insane as I thought. My authority derives frompassing the two tests required of any Ruler of Festhold—drawing the sword fromthe stone, and meeting the approval of the nobles. The weak-willed Harold passed

out on the floor. I kept at it till I won! I am the Warlord of Festhold!”

The Sergeant eyed the dog-eared corner of a little pamphlet sticking out from



under his communications machine, and said nothing. The colonel frowned, andstepped over to the sergeant’s machine to read the message himself. From outsidecame the blast of signal whistles and the heavy tramp of feet. Duke Marius suddenlywhirled and left the room.

XXVIII. The Guests

« ^ » As seen in the spy screens in Interstellar Patrol Ship 6-107-J, the Capital Divisioncontrolled the spaceport and communications centers. The Imperial Division wascamped in the Royal Park with more and more units being lifted in. The RoyalGuard, under command of the Warlord, had the City Palace surrounded, and alsocontrolled everything in it from the subbasement up to and including the fifteenthfloor. The populace was in the streets, eagerly awaiting the latest news.

On the sixteenth floor of the City Palace, an uneasy truce held between the armedguards of Duke Marius and the Royal Guard, facing each other halfway down agorgeously decorated hall, at the end of which a gilded elevator led to theseventeenth and eighteenth floors of the building.

“Just stay right there,” warned the commander of the guards. “Otherwise the

Duke kills the Princess. You don’t want that, do you?”

Roberts, still in his armor, glanced from one screen to another, and growled,“We’ll take care of that.”

Morrissey, who appeared to be a kind of armored muscular sea horse looking outof an armored tank, said, “And what if that’s the thing that sets off this maniac?”

“How could it?” said Roberts. “We’re his only hope.”

Hammell, in the guise of a giant armored python, gave a little laugh, but said

nothing. Overhead, in the space devoted to the big upper fusion turrets, a tangle of glittering armored tentacles showed where Bergen was also saying nothing, butwaiting patiently.

Roberts slid into the control seat, snapped on the gravitors, and rose steadily upthe side of the Duke’s “City Palace.”

Morrissey, watching the spy screen, said, “He’s glancing around out thewindow—looking for some unit loyal to him, I suppose. There—he sees the ship.”

Roberts slowed the climb of the patrol ship, and spoke through the outside

speaker: “I am Vaughan. Are you the Ruler of Festhold?”

Duke Marius’ eyes glittered. “Yes, but some disloyal local troops have me









temporarily besieged here.”

“We cannot intrude in the fight—but if you seek transportation—”

“Yes!—For myself and my fiancée!”

“We are always glad to help a fellow sovereign. Would that we could fight in thisconflict, but we may not do it.”

“If you will just bring your ship closer—”

Roberts raised the ship, and swung it close to the building. Duke Marius turnedtoward the inside, and gestured. Two guards appeared with the struggling Erena,who looked grimly at the ship, then glanced far down at the ground below.

Roberts spoke, his voice carefully expressionless. “You will be safe aboard thisship, Princess.”

Erena stood still, listening, glanced wonderingly at the ship, and suddenly reachedout. She steadied herself against the curving flank of the ship as she stepped onto thegently sloping fin. Carefully, she climbed the fin toward the hatch. Duke Mariusfollowed, and though his weight, in comparison to that of the ship, was not greatlymore than that of Princess Erena, the ship seemed to dip noticeably beneath him ashe stepped on the fin. The surface of the fin, apparently slightly rough beneathPrincess Erena’s feet—and hence offering a safe grip—seemed somehow slick under Duke Marius.

The Duke, teetering dangerously, reached out to steady himself against the flank of the ship. The flank of the ship delivered a blue-white spark about a quarter of aninch long. In the control seat, Roberts shut off the outside speaker, and punched thebutton near an amber glowing lens.

“We can’t get the answers from this Duke if we drop him sixteen stories into thecourtyard.”

The symbiotic computer said regretfully, “That is correct.”

Roberts glanced at the viewscreen, and noted that Duke Marius, perspiring freely,

was now able to pick his way warily along the fin. Princess Erena had almostreached the hatch. Carefully she climbed up.

Roberts left the control seat, ducked under the three-foot thick mirrorlike cylinderthat ran down the axis of the ship, and then paused. Back toward the drive units,Princess Erena stood just beneath the hatchway, her clear blue eyes wide, one handraised to brush back her honey-blonde hair.

Roberts, paralyzed for an instant, recovered control of himself, and spokequietly. “My colleagues may at first seem somewhat strange to you, Princess—but

though they may appear alien, their hearts are true. Do not let the illusion of theiroutward form alarm you.”



Roberts held out his hand, and the armor flashed in the overhead light. Erenastepped forward, carefully took his hand, smiled, and let him lead her further into theship. For an instant, she paused, gripping the armor.

Hammell, in the guise of an armored snake of formidable proportions, graciously

bowed with the upper—or uncoiled—portion of his body.“Delighted to meet you, Princess. I am Prince Gdazzrik of the March.”

The monster sea horse behind Hammell bowed suavely, and spoke inMorrissey’s voice, “Sarkonnian the Second.”

As Princess Erena’s grip on Roberts’ arm tightened, there came a flexing of tentacles from overhead, and the voice of Dan Bergen said politely, “RasgaardSeraak, Adjunct-Coordinate to the Empire, Galactic East.”

There was a heavy thud from aft in the ship, then the clang! as the hatchslammed shut. Duke Marius wiped his forehead. “Vaughan, I am truly indebted toyou and your colleagues. If you will merely take me to System Command CenterOne, which I can locate for you very quickly, we will end this nonsense.”

Just then, the Duke caught sight of Hammell, and suddenly stopped talking.

Princess Erena said earnestly, “I appeal to you Vaughan, on behalf of mybrother, the true ruler of Festhold. This man is a traitor. He is clever. He isforesighted. But he is a traitor!”

Duke Marius straightened and smiled. “Come, come, my dear, you are overtired.King Vaughan knows a revolt when he sees it!”

Roberts said, “Princess, you have my pledged word that you will be safe aboardthis ship. Do you feel unsafe in the presence of this man?”

“Yes!”

Roberts at once came between Duke Marius and the girl. There was a faint hissof metallic scales as Prince Gdazzrik of the March uncoiled ten or twelve feet of length and appeared at Roberts’ side. Sarkonnian the Second added to the

congestion in the already confined space by rolling up on caterpillar treads andresting a tree-trunk arm on Roberts’ shoulder.

“ Is it revolt?—Or an uprising against false tyranny?”

From up in the forward fusion turret, a number of armored tentacles reacheddown and visibly flexed. Bergen’s voice was cheerful: “ ‘Twould not be meet thatthe Princess observe the means by which ‘tis done—but I’ll warrant to have the truthout of this fellow in the blink of an eye.”

As Duke Marius glanced back at the hatch, Roberts said soothingly, “I fear wesovereigns are a suspicious lot. You know—The thought of treachery is thecommon nightmare of kings. You have but to clear up the matter for us. We wish



merely to be certain we are on the right side. Once we are sure—”

Duke Marius whirled, and tried to get out the hatch.

XXIX. Steel and Gold

« ^ Roberts stood before the desk of Colonel Valentine Sanders, who sat back, hishands clasped behind his head, listening closely.

“So,” said Roberts, “to sum up the cause of the trouble, Festhold has a royalfamily, and a series of noble families. Two generations ago the head of the wealthynumber-one noble family decided to take over the throne. The eldest son—DukeMarius—stayed home. The second son emigrated to Tiamaz. The third son joinedthe temple priesthood.

“Because of their wealth, rank, and their native ability, they each soon had agroup of followers, all working toward the same end—the elimination of the royalfamily and the substitution of their own family in its place. At home, they carefullyarranged accidents. On Tiamaz they raised money, in return for the promise of Festhold protection once the Regent became King. At that point, the other brothers

would have become members of the new royal family, which would rule Festhold,run Tiamaz, and also control the temple priesthood.

“As Regent, meanwhile, Duke Marius had made a carefully timed deal withFesthold’s Stath enemies. Provided they would agree to settle down, he would cutthe appropriation for the Festhold fleet, so that they, in turn, could afford to relax.He was sure that they would doublecross him, which would provide a crisis justwhen he was ready to take over the government. The crisis would unite the countrybehind him, and incidentally give him an excuse to get rid of any stubborn militaryunits that showed support for the Prince. They would be sent into the worst of the

battle, and be ground up fighting the Stath.”The colonel shook his head.

“All the details were nicely worked out. What was the Command Center One theRegent wanted to go to when you ‘rescued’ him?”

“He had arranged that any commands to distant military units must pass throughCommand Center One. Command Center One was staffed with his own people, andwas to act as a filter. Most orders got only a casual glance and then were relayed.But when Harold William gave his order commanding the Festhold Armed Forces to

rally to him, Command Center One filtered out that order. It got no further. Thenormal arrangements for relaying such communications all fed through CommandCenter One.”







“So that—”

“So that Harold William gained the support of the troops on Festhold—a total of some five or six divisions—while the enormous majority of the other troops, plus thebulk of the Festhold fleet, knew nothing at all of what had happened. From

Command Center One, Duke Marius could then send out a false account of whathad happened, bring down the fleet, and blast Harold to bits before he knew whathad happened. Also, once at Command Center One, Duke Marius could fakemessages of loyalty from the fleet to Harold William, so that Harold William wouldbe unprepared for what would happen when the Fleet actually came down.”

The colonel glanced at the ceiling, then shook his head. “I happen to have an ideathat Maury and his commerce raiders are about to hit Tiamaz. I was thinking that itmight be a nice idea to let Marius ‘escape’ to Tiamaz just before the raid.”

Roberts shook his head. “They want him on Festhold.”

“Yes—and besides, what if Maury captured him? He’d be Maury’s idea-man inno time. No, Maury is tough enough as it is. We’ll leave the problem of Duke Mariusto Festhold.”

Roberts said quietly, “I think they can solve it.”

The colonel nodded, then smiled. “And what about you, Roberts? You seem tohave formed the habit of associating with royalty. What about this Princess?”

Roberts looked at him blandly. “Princess?”

The colonel frowned. “Princess Erena.”

“Ah, Private Erena, my probationary crewman.”

The colonel sat up. “Listen, Roberts—what in—”

Roberts smiled and said, “You didn’t expect me to propose on the spot, then goto the Cathedral of Truth with Harold William and take a second crack at drawingthe sword all on my own?”

“No, I admit, that would have been rushing things, but I assumed—”“Erena recognized my voice. She knew whoever had gotten her out of the Temple

of Chance on Tiamaz had reappeared on Festhold in the guise of His Royal andImperial Majesty, Vaughan the First.”

“Well,” said the colonel, smiling, “that must have made you an eminently eligiblesuitor.”

Roberts said drily, “And then afterward?”

The colonel innocently spread his hands. “For better or for worse—”

“Well,” said Roberts, smiling, “the first chance I had, I explained the situation.”



“What did she—”

“She said that, in her opinion, if I wanted to I could claim royal rank by virtue of the situation on Paradise—but that she thought it would simplify everything if insteadshe was in the Patrol.”

The colonel’s brows came together. “Listen, Roberts, it may simplify things forher— and for you— but—”

“And, sir, the Patrol is on record with Tiamaz—accepting Princess Erena as acandidate-member of the Interstellar Patrol—and incidentally as a member of mycrew.”

“I have the feeling, Roberts, that the records of that call have mysteriouslyvanished from Tiamaz’ files.”

Roberts smiled. “But not from our files.”

The colonel said grudgingly, “That’s true.” He frowned. “But look, Roberts, doyou have the faintest idea what this—ah—pampered princess would have to gothrough to achieve full membership. The requirements for women are as tough,proportionately, as they are for men. And women recruits invariably makeproblems! Marry this princess if you’ve got to, but, for the love of—” He cuthimself off, studying Roberts’ expression. His own face showed a rapid successionof emotions. Abruptly he smiled, stood up, and thrust out his hand.

“Well done, Roberts—whatever happens—and good luck!”

Roberts shook hands, took one step back, saluted, turned, and went out.Ordinary prudence told him to leave before the colonel assigned him to some otherlittle problem. The oversight would not be forgotten for long, if it was an oversight.

He stepped out into the corridor to see Erena, the neat uniform of the Patrol atonce modest and perfectly suited to her blue eyes and honey-blonde hair. With herin the hall stood a captain, two lieutenants, and a major, all trying to elbow each otheraside as they smiled charmingly at Erena. None of them were pleased at theapproach of Roberts, all murmuring politely as she said good-bye and took

Roberts’ arm—and all looking after him with a “What’s he got?” expression plain ontheir faces.

At the desk inside the office, Colonel Valentine Sanders finished punching the callnumber, waited frowning for the response, then turned at the sudden transparency of the bulkhead nearby. The wall screen showed a strongly built man with piercing blueeyes, who frowned now in faint puzzlement.

“Yes, Val? What is it? We’ve finally got this business with Festhold all wrapped

up, correct?”

The colonel glanced at the door by which Roberts had just gone out. On the wall



screen, the piercing gaze sharpened.

“Festhold is all clear, isn’t it?”

“The last word,” said the colonel, “is that the Warlord has drawn the sword fromthe stone, met with the nobles, spoken to them, and been thunderously acclaimed.

Duke Marius is still imprisoned. Maury’s commerce raiders are approaching Tiamaz,and we’ve withdrawn our teams from Tiamaz. Roberts has just reported fromFesthold. His ship and crew are back.”

“Ah—good. Then—” The piercing gaze sharpened again. “It’s all cleared up,then?”

The left side of the colonel’s lean face bent up in a brief smile. The right sidestayed somber. “There’s the question of Roberts and Princess Erena.”

The figure on the wall screen briefly studied the colonel’s expression. “M’m.Yes, that’s right. Well—” The strongly built figure was momentarily silent,motionless. Then one of the hands resting palm-down on the desktop came up,turned—

“Well, Val, what can we do about it? Our man’s overmatched, that’s all. Heshouldn’t go around falling in love with princesses. Obviously, someone was goingto get hurt. He’ll get over it.”

“That isn’t what I—”

“At least, we haven’t lost him.”

“No, but—”

“Try to look at it this way. If he’d stayed there, she’d have come to see him notas her rescuer but as a nameless untitled figure—with a certain heroic aspect, yes,but heroes are commonplace on Festhold. And he would never reveal what he haddone unless and until they’d married. But before that, he has to win her. So, he’deither have acted dishonorably by Festhold standards—and the consequences of that aren’t worth thinking about—or, more likely, he’d have tried to draw this swordfrom the stone, if he ever got that far. And the odds are, he couldn’t do it. Andafterwards, what? He emigrates to Festhold? Or he goes renegade, and kidnaps theWarlord’s sister? And we get stuck with the blame?”

The sharp eyes looked suddenly thoughtful. “And that isn’t the worst, Val.Theoretically, you recall, this princess is a candidate-member of the Patrol. Now, if you want to try to visualize some real diplomatic and personnel problems, justimagine what could have happened.”

The colonel’s haunted expression showed that that was exactly what he was

imagining. The figure on the screen smiled benevolently.

“So—we’d better leave well enough alone. Right, Val?”



The colonel drew a deep breath, and came to his feet. He crossed the office, andcame back again. He spoke quietly and respectfully. “Sir?”

A look of alarm flashed across the strong-featured face on the screen. It was thelook of the superior who knows that orders go down, but problems come up. Then

the face quickly composed itself. The eyes were faintly narrowed and sharplyfocused. The chin jutted. The voice was quiet and considerate.

“Yes?”

“There are certain problems I am not cleared to handle.”

“Such as?”

“O-Branch merely handles operations. Entanglements with foreign powers thatare not members of the Federation, dealings with outraged emperors, matters of highprotocol—these are all outside my range of action.”

“Yes, but what—”

“Selection of personnel, advice to the lovelorn, disentanglement of sixteenfire-breathing Interstellar Patrolmen all interested in the same girl, explanations of thefine points of the situation to naïve computers, ship and job assignmentscomplicated by personal attachments as airy as thistledown and as strong as steelcables. Last but not least, marriage counseling—all this, too, sir, is out of my line.”

“Yeah—Listen, you don’t mean—”

“That is exactly what I do mean.

“Oh.”

[Anvil Christopher] Anvil, Christopher - Interstel(BookFi)

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